


The Rent is Too Damn High Job

by Pohadka



Series: The Job Between Here and There [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Leverage, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Crossover, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Dementia, James "Bucky" Barnes and a cat, Maria Hill in charge, Memory Loss, Mental Instability, Multi, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, OT3, Other, Parker's bunny, Pre-Slash, Sam Wilson is a Gift, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-21
Updated: 2016-07-09
Packaged: 2018-06-09 17:28:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 39,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6916621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pohadka/pseuds/Pohadka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky Barnes has finally found a spot where he might be able to relax, if only he wasn't such a wanted man. Hydra, Shield, Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, just about anyone with skin in the game wants their hands on the Winter Soldier.  And all he wants to do is help out here and there, give people who need a hand a little bit of... Leverage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Rent is Too Damned High Job

**Author's Note:**

> Part two of [The Job Between Here and There](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6354295) If you haven't read it, I do suggest it cause it explains how the crew got to this point. And they've got a lot on their hands now. 
> 
> So, Seattle! And lots of new problems to tackle! There are several real world examples I'm building this particular part out of, and at the end of the story, I'll link them all, if you're interested. Just doing what the Leverage writers did, pull from real world idiocy. 
> 
> And now for the change in format! I annoyed myself, posting 2-3 chapters at a time, so I'm doing big chapter updates on this one. Just like the first part, this is beta read by Florianna, but all errors belong to me. All my cupcakes and adoration belong to her though, for putting up with me through this.

Seattle wasn’t always wet. Overcast, yeah, but not rainy every day like the movies might make it out to be. Today was a rare day of sunshine, so it was natural that they did like the natives and had their business meeting outside.

It was also almost impossible to be overheard in the middle of a crowded park Plus Hardison had a few tricks to deal with any tools other people might have up their sleeves to overcome the ambient noise. 

“I think we’ve planned out as much as we can, without painting ourselves into a corner.” Parker put down her notebook, frowning. 

“So final vote. Are we doing this?” Eliot asked, his eyes steady. He gave them a moment to think before laying his vote in. “It’s going to be complicated, especially without Sophie, but I’m in.”

“I’ve already got the framework laid out for the most part. Would be a waste not to use it. I’m in.” Hardison put his notebook down too. Paper, no digital on any of them for this session. Not even ear buds.

“I’m in too. I just… I don’t like having to do this sort of thing to anyone,” Parker replied, leaning a bit against Hardison’s side. He wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close. “Still, it’s the best plan without anyone dying.”

“It comes close though,” James replied. Malaya sat in his lap, helping to keep him calm. The blue of her harness clashed brightly with her orange fur. “I don’t like this either, but it’s much better than anything I’ve come up with.” He lifted his chin and squared his shoulders before looking at Parker. “I trust you. Just don’t let me fall again.” 

“I won’t.” She reached across to squeeze his hand. “If we do this right, I won’t have to do a thing.” She smiled. Neither of them commented on how shaky it was. 

“Okay, so we’re agreed. Plan AV is a go.” Hardison flipped through a few pages as he thought.

“Didn’t want to use plan M, huh,” Eliot teased, taking a bit of the tension off the top. James smiled, since he knew the story behind that joke.

“Now, we need to start working,” Hardison continued, without answering the joke, “I’ve already lined up a few potential clients in town, and I’d like to start with this one. This is how I think it’ll work.” Hardison spread out pages, explaining the con and how it would work with their new business plan. 

James listened, choosing to stroke Malaya’s fur instead of grinding his jaw. His shoulders felt tight, and he had to fight not to squeeze in on himself. He looked around the circle of friends, and forced himself to relax. Time to take the next step out of the shadows. 

~ ~ ~ ~

“We’ve complained a dozen times to management, but there’s always a different person and they say they’ve never seen any reports. And now they want to raise the rent again. Without fixing anything! I have to have a place to live, Mr. Hardison, or else the state will take my son back. I can’t lose my son.” 

Across from Hardison was a small woman. To James, it looked like she didn’t have a spare ounce on her. Her face was drawn with anger, making her cheekbones stand out even more. Her black hair was pulled back tight in a bun, enhancing the look. But the strength she showed in keeping her chin up was amazing. He realized that she made him feel small. Even as he realized it, he relished it. He still identified new feelings all the time.

“And you said the city has sent out inspectors to follow up?” Hardison was making notes on his tablet. It had surprised James this morning when he asked him to sit in with him. “See what we do, from beginning to end,” the hacker had said.

“Three times. But every time it’s the same inspector and he only looks at the one apartment. The one they keep up to date to show new tenants. So of course, he passes it and the city goes away. People are starting to get sick now. My Stevie,” she pulled out her phone to show a little brunette boy, grinning up behind a plastic Captain America shield. “He’s got some digestive thing going on, and I have to choose now whether to get food he can eat, or keep the power on. I can’t pay you, but people said you can help.”

James stared at the little boy. Nothing like his Stevie, but he could access those memories easier now. He leaned forward, wishing he could reassure her.

Hardison beat him to it, taking her hand. “We have a different way to raise revenue to handle situations like this, Mrs. Gallagher. We’ll do our best for you.” 

They saw her out of the small restaurant together. It wasn’t the brewpub, but something much smaller, more intimate. Eliot had picked it out this time. James hadn’t understood half the things he and Hardison argued about, but it sounded so familiar that he fell asleep to menu discussions. Like Portland, it was a multilevel building, but this time only James lived there. The other three had found a loft across the street that had some really great sight lines. If they had other places, he didn’t know about it. Parker had a zipline from the top of the building down to the Wharf area. He still refused to ride it.

Twenty minutes later, James sat next to Parker at their planning table. He’d sat in on other planning sessions, but this was the first time they’d included him so deeply. The past three months had been the best in his life, slowly healing, getting better. 

Even felt like no one was hunting him and trying to return him to the chair. Or cryo chamber.

 _Finish the mission._ Still had the imperative though.

He even had the same identity. James Grant hadn’t been cracked in Portland, so it all remained. Along with the bank accounts, a new cell phone, even his own car in addition to the bikes. And now it seemed, he was about to get his own apartment. And a new job. 

“Here’s our CEO and owner, Jared Hinkerson. Son of a real estate developer who built half of Las Vegas. He’s funneling the money through Cloverfield and his shell companies to pay off some really bad bets on real estate here in Seattle. He’s tripped onto the very profitable secret about poverty. Built in penalties and evictions when you fall behind in the rent. Which is where our client Annie Gallagher comes in.” Hardison was doing his thing on the screen, flicking files and photos at high speed. James was getting better at keeping up now. “Cloverfield Terrace, a 210 unit apartment complex, owned by Cloverfield Coastal Properties LLC. Currently one of the lower complexes as far as rental rates go, but they’ve steadily increased their rates by at least forty percent in the past five years. And they have a STAGGERING amount of lease breaking clauses. And CCP LLC also owns their own debt collection agency that specializes in rental delinquencies and has an unusually high success rate.”

“How high?” Eliot asked.

“An unprecedented sixty percent. Other collection agencies hover around twenty to forty, depending on what lies they tell you. Mostly because Cloverfield took notes from the mortgage bubble and packaged accounts to sell. They keep the ones they can collect on, sell the others to more unscrupulous places. The money they collect is usually by wage garnishments and judgments against former tenants. Terrace is just one of a dozen complexes they run.” 

James surprised himself by speaking up. “Just like New York in the thirties. We had crappy places too.” 

Hardison turned and pointed at him. “Exactly like the tenements in New York. Most cities have legislation in place these days to keep that type of abuse from happening again. Somehow, those laws seem to elude Cloverfield. Especially since they’ve learned to use existing laws in their favor.” 

“Their headquarters are where?” Parker asked. James had learned exactly what her skill set was.

A new photo on screen. “Downtown Seattle. Cloverfield tower. Just built five years ago. Almost had a Sterenko but they went with a less expensive security suite.” Hardison started to break it down. And for the first time, James understood more than half of it.

“So why bring me in?” he asked, when the presentation was done. “I’m not exactly sneaky yet.” He flexed his metal fingers in the air. Hardison had fixed the hinge, but it was hard to hide if he wasn’t always wearing long sleeves and gloves.

“Actually, you are.” A new set of photos and documents on the screen. “Multiple people with metal prosthesis out there now, inspired by you, and not just those copycats Hydra had. So we’re gonna set you up in the complex. Both as a new maintenance guy, and as a new tenant. Recently returned from Iraq, and an anonymous donor sponsored your arm. Now you’re just trying to figure out how to move on with your life, since the arm disqualifies you from a lot of sports.” 

“Baseball,” James blurted, then grinned. “Always wanted to play pro.” Eliot chuckled and thumped his flesh shoulder, grinning. There was a story there. He’d ask later.

“There you go. We need a four person crew to make this work better. And it’ll be good, give you something to do besides scare the pigeons on the roof.” 

James flushed, but nodded, leaning forward to see what else this entailed. He only glanced at the protected screens to their left a few times, detailing all the reports of the movements of one Steven Rogers. James wasn’t ready to face him yet. Nor did he want to be blindsided. It just seemed… prudent. 

Beside it, a new screen, tracking the progress of Plan AV. Which is why those search engines ran on their own server with more things James couldn’t understand. But he did understand the competent smirk Hardison had anytime he asked about that. Yeah, he knew a thing or two about smiles like that.

~ ~ ~ ~

The apartment was a one bedroom flat, with a few bare pieces of furniture to fill out the ‘furnished’ part of the description. The air conditioner sat in the window, but otherwise, James would have sworn he’d gone back to 1942 and that first apartment he had shared with Steve. He blinked at the memories, smiling despite the view in front of him. The paint was cracked in the corner where two walls met and only one of the lights seemed to work. But it was isolated with empty units on both sides, and quiet.

This morning he had reported for duty as one of the new maintenance guys on site. They called him James Washington, to keep with the presidential naming scheme. That had made him smile. The complex hadn’t even blinked at getting a new employee out of the blue.

“That’s because these places have a high turnover and they just lost a guy. Funny how he got another job across town like that. Sometimes, all they get is an email to expect someone, and that I can make happen, no problem,” Hardison had explained earlier. 

In the space of a day, he’d fixed a hot water heater, replaced a dead dishwasher with one that was still half alive at least, rewired lights in the courtyard, and shown to his new apartment that was part of his salary package. He’d also left little cameras and microphones in every company room he’d been in, as well as the tiny camera in his shirt button. That felt so weird when he let himself think about it.

“You did so good today, James!” That was Parker, in his ear. She’d read off instructions to him as he did the rewiring. “All we need is a walkthrough of your apartment, then you can relax for a bit.” 

“Okay, well, the living room.” He did a slow circle of the room, then walked into the kitchen to try the sink. It grumbled for a minute before spitting out brown water. Two minutes later, it coughed and ran somewhat clean. “Gross.”

“Hardison said this particular apartment had been empty for a while in their inventory. We picked it cause the Gallaghers are on your floor there.” 

Oh. Well that makes sense. James didn’t say it out loud, but turned to poke through the rest of the kitchen. 

In the bedroom, he had to pause. Eliot had brought his stuff over, and on the bed was the familiar flop eared rabbit. “You sent Bunny!”

“Yeah well, since you couldn’t take Malaya, I didn’t want you to feel you like were by yourself.” Parker’s voice hadn’t changed from her usual setting, but he blushed anyways. No one could see him hug himself, so he did. Then he remembered who the bunny belonged too, and blushed. 

The last room he checked was the bathroom. Like the kitchen, the water didn’t want to start at first. The shower stall was cracked and he thought he could smell rot when he got close to check the grout in the shower. Most disappointing was the tiny little tub. No soaking there. The mirror was dingy and old, but he could still see himself clearly. He’d put on weight since joining up with the trio. His hair had just continued to grow, enough that he kept it back in a ponytail these days. He caught his own eyes in the mirror, then looked away. He never let himself look too deep. Despite their hard work and their progress, the Asset was still there somewhere.

James stopped long enough to unpack a few of his things, putting up photos here and there to make it more home like. They were copies of the ones at home, just in case. Eliot had included all the biology books as well. They went on the tiny shelf and still didn’t take up half the space. He sat on the bed holding Bunny a few minutes as he decided on what to do that night, then put the stuffed rabbit back in place. Groceries, and a little recon of the building before more reading. He was up to what Hardison called high school AP biology. Soon he’d start in on the college books.

“Any other news today?” he asked softly as he locked up behind himself. 

“Not really. The Avengers have been quiet.” Parker took a moment, then her voice lightened. “Rogers has been listening to you explain things. He’s signed onto Twitter today. Already has six million followers.”

James laughed, pausing to dig out his phone to pull that up. He had a Twitter account too, but only a handful of strangers followed him. That had been weird to think about. Hardison had researched them, of course, but they were just all ordinary people. He used it to document things that made him happy. So far, fifty of his seventy-two tweets were pictures of Malaya. 

He searched quickly for Captain America, flushing a bit to see that the picture Steve had chosen was from their WWII days. And the splash on the top were all the Howling Commandos, himself included. Right at Steve’s elbow.

Only one tweet on the account so far: “Hello Twitter. My friend the @POTUS Ellis mentioned you guys were asking when I’d join up. Well here we are!” There was a gif attached, one of Steve waving from the front lawn of the White House. There was already hundreds of replies and reblogs. 

James hit follow, licking his lips to keep from laughing. It reminded him to post on his own feed under HarleyJay that there wouldn’t be any new kitten photos for a while. Business trips came first. CatzRLuv replied almost immediately with a sad cat emoji. People were weird.

A door opened down the hall. A little boy, carrying a red, blue, and white plastic shield ran down the hall towards James. “Stevie, you wait for me!” He recognized the voice as their client, Annie Gallagher. He found a smile when the boy realized he wasn’t alone and came to a stop right in front of him. 

He realized he’d moved his left hand behind his hip, instinctively. He was wearing the leather gloves he was most comfortable with, but he wasn’t used to being so public still. “Hey there. Whatchya got?” 

Stevie brought the plastic toy up in a classic Captain America pose, grinning. “I got my shield. You’re not a bad guy, are you?” Down the hall, his mother was locking the door and hustling to catch back up to them. 

James dipped down to the boy’s level, winking at him. “I like to think I’m a good guy. I’m here to fix things around the building. My name is James, what’s yours?” 

The boy looked back at his mother before answering, “I’m Stevie Gallagher. And that’s my mom. She was hoping that there’d be someone here to fix stuff soon.” 

“Well I’m going to do my best. Can’t let Captain America down, can I?” He smiled, winking at the boy again before standing up. He dipped the brim of his baseball hat at Annie. From the look in her eye, she clearly recognized him from the meeting with Hardison. 

James stepped aside to let her pass, but she flashed a quick smile at him. “Come on, Stevie, we gotta get to your Aunt Alice’s for dinner. We’ll talk to your new friend again tomorrow, okay?” 

“Okay, momma. Bye James!” Stevie waved before following his mother down the stairs, asking loudly, “did you hear him call me Captain America? That was awesome!” 

James laughed, shaking his head, then shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket as he followed them out. Annie drove an old Toyota SUV. He took the time to memorize the plate number even as his eyes did a full sweep of the courtyard and parking lot. “All clear here Parker, I’m gonna go find groceries.” 

“Okay. Eliot says he thinks you’d like the bakery a few streets over. And James?” 

“Yeah?” He’d already flipped his phone open to google bakeries as he walked to his bike.

“That was really sweet, the way you handled the little boy.” 

He blinked back a couple tears, smiling to himself. “Long practice. You shoulda seen my Steve at that age.” He swallowed, sitting on his bike for a long moment. He remembered sharp elbows and knobby knees. Coughing and wheezing through laughter at a story his ma was reading to them. He remembered them again. 

~ ~ ~ ~ 

The Gallagher’s apartment brought up fresh memories of how his mother used to keep her apartment. Everything clean and in its place to avoid clutter. Which is why the water showing brown in her sink was ten times more obvious than it had been in his own kitchen. “Hardison, did you say Eliot was gonna check out the water lines in this place?” He shifted so that the button cam could see better as he poked around under the sink, trying to find a cause there. 

“Yeah. Once I finish sorting out this maze of water permits. It’s truly Byzantine how they file this shit.” Hardison was still at their new office, doing his wizard thing to sort out the digital side of the job. James and Eliot were on the ground in phase one, while Parker and Hardison would come in during phase two to run the grift side of the con. 

Eliot was masquerading as a city guy, setting up cameras and plugging in viruses into their computers for Hardison. Viruses. Virii? Whatever. James had his own little thing to plug into any of the computers he got close to. “Eliot,” James whispered. “I think we should test the water here. It tastes,” he paused, thinking hard to describe it right, “Heavy, like when that beer pump in Portland ground itself to pieces that one time.” 

“Right, metals or other contaminants. Good catch. I’m on it,” Eliot replied. 

“That would be why people are getting sick around here,” Hardison added. “Parker, how you doing.” 

“Huh? Oh, just hanging out in the air shafts, waiting for a clear shot.” 

James didn’t ask. The last two times he tried to go with her, he’d frozen midair. Hardison thought it was because of the fall from the train, but no, his acrophobia predated the train. It had just been easier to deal with, before his brain resembled a Jackson Pollack painting. He was fine helping her rappel from the top of things, as long as he didn’t have to follow her. She was breaking into the building downtown to access their databanks there. 

He distracted himself from that mental image by tapping the pipes, shifting around to see if anything was visible there. This time, when he spoke, he projected his voice enough for Mrs. Gallagher to hear. “The water problem isn’t the pipes in the apartment. I’m gonna have to go down into the maintenance rooms downstairs to see what I find there.” He straightened up the mess he’d made under the sink, then stood up and dusted himself off. Across from them, the little boy was humming while he drew in his coloring books. “In the meantime, I don’t think you should drink that anymore. Probably help with his digestion too.”

“Well what else am I gonna use?” She asked, frustration practically glimmering through her stance.

“I’m on it,” Hardison said in his ear.

“We’ll figure something out. Right now, I think we’ll get you bottled water to handle things until it’s sorted out,” James told her, trying to think of how that’s going to get set up.

“And delivery will be in about,” Hardison murmured again, “two hours.”

James pretended to check his phone. He loved the earbuds, but he always felt a little dumb talking to himself. “And yup, we’ll have someone drop off a delivery in a couple hours.

“Well that’s just me. What about everyone else here, huh?” Now Mrs. Gallagher had her arms crossed over her chest, glaring at him as if this dirty water was all his fault. He felt trapped and his mouth went dry.

“Ohkaaay,” Hardison murmured. “Deliveries to every occupied apartment, got it.” 

“We’ll take care of that too.” James held up his phone as a shield to ward her anger off. She reminded him of Steve, actually. Or rather Sarah, Steve’s mother. Which meant the next shift of her anger didn’t surprise him at all. 

Mrs. Gallagher sighed, deflating and rubbed at her nose. “I’m sorry. Really, you shouldn’t have to pay for everyone to have clean water. Cause there’s no way I can pay you back for what you’re doing now!” 

James smiled. This he knew how to deal with. “Consider it part of the services. You DID hire us to take care of things, so now you have to LET us get things taken care of. Our way.” He felt bold enough to wink, even as he shrugged. “We have a plan.” 

“Momma, come look!” Stevie yelled, holding up the page he’d been coloring on. It took everything James had to keep from blushing at the drawing of Captain America laughing with his Howling Commandos. 

“Oh, that looks great, Stevie! Give me a moment and I’ll come color with you, okay?” Mrs. Gallagher kissed the top of the boy’s head before coming back to James. “I really do appreciate everything you’ve done today. At least let me invite you to dinner!” 

“Maybe tomorrow? I have more work to do before I’m done for the day,” he demurred, packing away the tools he’d brought. Eating in front of other people these days made him feel self-conscious and squirmy. Too many people made assumptions about his table manners. 

“All right, but I won’t take no for an answer tomorrow,” she said, seeing him to the door. “You look like you don’t eat enough to keep Stevie happy.” 

He had a quick memory flash of Steve sitting at a mess table on his own, plowing through four full servings while the rest of the Commandos only got one each. “I just have a high metabolism, that’s all. You two have a good night, okay?” 

“You too, James. Go on, go help someone else out that needs you.” She smiled and closed the door behind her. The warm feeling stayed with him all the way downstairs to the first floor. 

~ ~ ~ ~ 

“The thing just gets stuck and I don’t have the strength anymore to work on it.” The tenant’s name was Don Weber (“Call me DA. Mr. Weber was my old man.”) and he was a vet too. He wore an old camo jacket that looked like it had come back from Saigon with him. And despite the joke about not having strength, his shoulders and biceps were still built enough to manage his wheelchair easily. There was no clutter in his apartment either, but the bathroom door had found a way to stick.

“Bet it just needs some balance and grease,” James said easily. DA was the first person in the complex that hadn’t stared at the silver fingers peeking out of the glove he wore. But then, a vet with no legs might know how it felt. James hesitated to make assumptions though. He’d grown up with World War I vets, where that kind of thing was normal. These days, despite two concurrent wars, it wasn’t. 

“Glad they finally got someone around here willing to do some work.” DA was already wheeling into the kitchen to rummage around in the fridge. “You got time to look at something else too?” 

James found the problem almost immediately, tightening the screws in the top hinge of the door and using the can of magic called WD-40 to coat all three hinges before testing it. It swung free almost immediately. “Oh yeah, all done here.” 

“Come into the kitchen then. I got a drawer I haven’t opened in two years!” James laughed softly as he headed towards the kitchen. He paused in the hallway to look at a few photos hanging there. A bunch of young kids standing in front of a helicopter that had been half taken apart. In the corner, white text labeled them as the 101st support. 

“Yeah, that was my gang there. Bunch of stupid kids, huh?” DA’s voice was soft and gentle, easy fondness rolling with the Texas accent.

“Weren’t we all?” James turned to smile at him shyly.

“Yeah, figured you for an infantry guy. Afghanistan?” A bottle was being held up to him, a local beer he hadn’t tried yet.

“Iraq, actually.” The lie wasn’t easy for him yet. He ducked his head, then hid his discomfort with taking a sip of the beer. 

“Army at least. Guessed that’s where you got the hardware. Glad you kids have that available.” The old vet watched him for a moment. James didn’t feel worthy enough to meet his eyes. But DA just spun his chair around again. “C’mon, I know how memories are. You’ll do better working.” And nothing satisfied him until James was on his knees, head in the cabinet under the drawer to figure out why it was stuck.

Ten minutes, more magic WD-40, and a judicial push with his left hand had the drawer open. He let DA go through the contents while he checked the wheels and railing to see why it had stuck in the first place. A few screws replaced, and it was back to being a normal drawer again. 

“Well ain’t you a miracle worker? Look who you found for me!” DA was casually breaking down a rusty looking Beretta, using the spray to help slide bits open. His hands looked competent and practiced at it too. 

“Hope there wasn’t any ammunition in there too,” James muttered, looking warily at the drawer.

“Naw. If there had been, I’d’ve forced it open a long time ago. I’m not that absentminded yet,” DA retorted, still putting the gun back together. 

“Okay good.” James ducked his head again, cleaning up after himself before he sat at the one chair by the table. “Anything else need to be unstuck?” 

“Not today.” DA took a moment to focus on the gun before speaking up again. “Although, I gotta ask. Feel free to tell me fuck off if you want to. But I wanna know, you got any sort of support, being back out here and all? Or did they just throw you on the street and expect you to cope, too?” 

James frowned, looking at him in confusion. “Support?” Support meant a crew to manage the weapons and transportation to get him in place for a mission. He didn’t do that anymore. How did this guy know what he did?

“Yeah, therapy, maybe a group to sit an’ talk with once in a while. So’s you know you’re not alone out here.” DA waved his half empty bottle around in the air, gesturing towards the east as if they were the problem.

“Oh. Uh, well yeah, I do have a psychologist.” Sophie drifted through his mind. Very specialized therapy, indeed. “See her every other week.”

“That’s good. Still get the nightmares though, huh?” DA’s eyes were sharp now, boring into him, daring him to deny that.

James flushed, ducking his head once more. “How did you know?” 

He didn’t expect DA to laugh. “My apartment’s right below yours, James. I hear ‘em.” A long pause, then his voice dropped. “Sorry about your friend, Steve. I figure, since that’s the only thing I hear, he’s what you’re dreaming about, yeah?” 

James rubbed at the back of his neck with his flesh hand. He dreamt of Steve. Of missions. Of finishing the last one. Of falling and Peggy, and Parker sometimes too. “Sometimes. Last night, yeah.” He shrugged, keeping his head ducked down and stared at the floor. “Sorry I was so loud.” 

DA ignored the apology as he spun his chair to go over to the counter where paperwork was stacked up neatly. He dug something out of the pile, then came back to James, chair parked in the middle of the kitchen, just to his right. He held out a business card. “Here. This is a good place. It’s a VA center a few bus stops down Marginal Way. They got a good group of counselors, if you need someone between your usual appointments.” 

James took the card to read slowly. Just the address and the director’s name, but it made him feel warm inside, that DA would think of this. They had just met, after all. He tucked it into his pocket, then rubbed at his eye for a second before looking up. “Thanks. I appreciate it.” 

“Hey, no problem. You kids, you don’t need to go through what we did, when we came back. No reason for you to suffer if you don’t have to.” The conversation slid from there, and James found himself fixing a few other things before he left.

DA saw him to the door, just like Mrs. Gallagher had. “Hey, if you go, ask for Sam. He’s the best at knowing what’ll work for you and your schedule.” 

“I will.” James headed back up to his place, then realized his earbud had been silent the whole time. He turned it off now and then, just for the silence. This time, he was glad the crew hadn’t listened in. He flicked it on, laughing when he heard Eliot and Hardison arguing about whether there were swamp monsters in Puget Sound. 

The card stayed on his mind. Maybe… Maybe talking to people who knew about these kind of nightmares would be a good thing. And he’d be on the watch out for this Sam, that’s for sure. The name sounded familiar. He’d have Hardison check on that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Hardison dies in plan M." That's the sarcastic Nate Ford in s1e1, The Nigerian Job, and S4E10, The Queen's Gambit. "Actually plans M through Q."


	2. Step two, the Grift

“I don’t see why I have to do this part!” Parker hissed under her breath. She was dressed in an oversized peach cardigan, and the kind of frumpy dress that her friend Peggy liked. Glasses and a flowered headband with matching flats completed the look. No one looked twice at her as she slid into the cubicle assigned to Sally Sparrow. 

“Because Eliot has to play the heavy to make it convincing, James is best at protection detail on site, and I get to swoop in and play your lawyer to get you back out.” Hardison was enjoying her discomfort. It’d taken her years to learn what all the different tones of his voice meant, but this one she knew all too well. 

Hardison always has been, and always will be, an asshole at heart. Nate had just taught him how to refine it over the years. Now he could use it to hide his nerves a little. Always playing a part, when in the middle of a job.

“Fine, just remember, I know where your safe house is and how to break into it,” she said, hissing her words like James’ cat. Malaya didn’t like Hardison, unless there was no one else around. The thought comforted Parker as she turned on her computer and loaded Hardison’s jacking program. People walked past, chasing their own interests, letting her be the perfect invisible drone. Until someone paid attention to the numbers her computer was running. But right now, she had nothing to do, really, but pretend she was happy to be there.

“James, how you doing there?” It was both fun, and worrying, to see him take his first tentative steps on his own. Sophie had been the push behind this, and so far he’d lived up to her expectations. Still, Parker remembered her first time being in the open on a con, rather than the support behind it. But none of them could forget the price of slipping up, especially these days.

“I’m just about ready to punch my boss and quit this shithole. This place is just fucking ridiculous!” Despite his words, his voice was low and steady. She had to think a minute on what his schedule had looked like. Through his earbud, she could hear someone using that patient voice of talking down to someone to make them feel stupid. 

“Just remember, you can. Your neighbors can’t. So let’s stick it out for them, yeah?” she said softly. 

“I know.” A long silence from James, but she could hear the other voice start to falter. Murder gaze, she thought. Eliot and James had excellent murder gazes. _I need one._ A door shut on his end, then he finally let a frustrated growl out. “Please tell me that he’s on the list to fall for this mess? He yelled at me for doing my job.” 

“If he wasn’t, he is now. He’s part of the problem, not the solution.” Parker kept her voice firm, even as she glanced around to make sure she wasn’t being watched yet. “We’ve seen several of them already on this job, guys like that.” 

“Do I keep my head down or keep doing what I was?” Parker really wished she had a visual with his flat voice. Sometimes his sarcasm came out just as flat as his over-stimulated emotion voice. She still had issues telling the two apart, even if she saw his face.

“Keep doing what you’re doing. He’s the one who’s gonna be out of a job soon,” she said solidly. “I know the tenants adore you already.”

That got a soft laugh out of him. “Hey... You got a minute Parker?” 

She looked around carefully, then put in headphones as if she was listening to something. “Yep, we’re just waiting for them to realize what I’m up to.” 

“Okay. Uhm, one of the tenants, downstairs, he’s an Army vet too. He ah, he asked me if I wanted to go to one of his meetings at the VA counseling place.” Again, she wished for a visual. She took a moment to imagine how he probably looked right now.

“You’re afraid they might recognize you? Or that you might not remember the background we made for you?” she guessed.

“Yeah. And… I don’t want Sophie to be mad at me.” Now the plaintive tone came up, and it was all she could do to keep from laughing.

“Sophie won’t be mad. She wanted you to get out more, remember? Besides, they may be able to help in ways she doesn’t know how. Especially if they can help with your nightmares.” The one thing they had stayed well away from was to try any sort of medication. That was one thing they had discussed. What did the serum do to his internal chemistry and what kind of disaster were they courting if they messed with that? Best case scenario would be that it did nothing. Worst case… Worst case is why they didn’t try it.

“I’ll think about it. Right now, I get to go piss off my boss by fixing the laundry machines in the basement.” Now that was a sarcastic edge if she ever heard one. 

Voices echoed down the hall in intense whispering. That was her sign. “All right. Phase two is about to start, so listen for Eliot if either of you need any help, okay?” Parker pulled the earplugs out to begin earnestly typing out the program she wanted to get caught on. 

“Stay safe Parker. If you need me, won’t be anything to stop me from getting there.” 

“I know. And James? Thanks.” 

~ ~ ~

Hardison listened in on the conversation, but he didn’t interrupt. Despite the fact that he trusted James and the respect was mutual, the former Soldier still responded best to Parker. And really, Hardison was much more comfortable these days for Parker to be in the building without onsite support. When your backup is the Winter Soldier, a lot of things seem more possible.

Still, his heart was in his throat as security came to take “Sally Sparrow” into custody. Their computer system was his, completely, they just didn’t know it yet. Right down to the electronic locks on her handcuffs. Which let him know how badly Jared Hinkerson and his assistant Louis Donovan were geeking out over how their money had disappeared, especially in trying to figure out how to steal it from “Sally.” The plan was working. Sometimes their plans worked too good. 

“Eliot, Parker’s in play now. You find what you were looking for yet?” Eliot did have a camera, but it was dark at the moment. He was in the pipes below the complex.

“Yeah. And give James bonus points, he called it. All these pipes are lead and copper, at least seventy, eighty years old. They should’ve been replaced decades ago.” The disgust in his voice matched Hardison’s own level of unhappiness.

“So we’ve got a miniature Flint situation here, along with everything else?” He was already keying in for probability algorithms to see how bad the situation might be for the complex’s inhabitants. 

“Yeah. Too cheap to even come down and seal them,” Eliot muttered. The camera with him flickered, then flooded with weak sunlight. He held his hands up to the camera so Hardison could see the streaks down the rusty bit of pipe Eliot had brought up with him. “Anybody you know that will test this for us?” 

“Yeah, I know a couple. Just get yourself cleaned up and into place. They’re interrogating Parker now.” One algorithm dinged finished. This time, it had good news. Financially, the eviction rate of these apartments was a disaster for the victims. But at least it kept them from getting more than a glancing level of lead poisoning. If his numbers were right.

“James still at the apartments?” Eliot asked. The camera shifted as he changed. The suit went into a nearby trash bin, but all the data and the camera were safely locked away in the totes in the Charger’s trunk. 

“Yeah, I’m still here,” James replied. “You need me to do something?” The eagerness in the ex-soldier’s voice surprised Hardison. But then again, as often as Eliot needed to punch something for stress relief, that would probably go for James too.

“Maybe. I’m saving some of this slime for your biology homework. I don’t wanna think about what’s in it.” Hardison laughed softly to himself.

“Guys, knock it off. It’s hard to look scared if I’m laughing,” Parker said. 

“Sorry,” the three replied at the same time. Hardison kept an eye on the cameras watching over Parker. 

“Eliot, I would prefer if you get over to Cloverfield Tower though. Just in case,” he said. 

“On my way. I’ll keep you two up to date. Parker, I’ll see you at the Troll.” 

She looked up at the camera, pretending to gather her thoughts before dropping the hook for the mark. “Look, I’ll tell you everything, but please! I just gotta get this guy off my back! I promised him I’d have the money today!” 

On the screen, Hinkerson cocked his head. “How much do you owe him?” 

Parker whimpered, then admitted, “Twenty grand. I knew how to get it back for you by next week! I never thought you’d miss it, considering how no money ever comes out of those apartment investments.” 

Just as they predicted, Hinkerson leaned back, frowning, then temples his fingers together. “What if we considered the twenty grand a loan. Would that convince you teach me your system?” 

“And there’s the carrot,” Hardison murmured. Malaya perked an ear at him, but contented herself with walking down the table, pointedly ignoring him.

“You would do that? I mean, I’m not saying no, but there’s gotta be a catch.” Parker’s voice was thin and worried, as she tried to project her distrust of the situation. 

“Trust me, Miss Sparrow. You will be paying off that loan.” He waved for his assistant Donovan to unlock her cuffs. “You be here, tomorrow, with EVERYTHING you’ve pulled out of my system. Until then,” Hinkerson leaned forward to pull a bracelet out of his desk, waving it in the air, “You wear this at all times. You leave Seattle, or you don’t come back in, I’ll set it to blow. It’ll be hard to hack with just one hand after that.” 

Parker’s face was white as Donovan slipped it around her wrist. “Now that’s just nasty,” Hardison murmured, already pulling up schematics out of Cloverfield’s computer system so he could walk Eliot through disabling it. “Eliot, you’re going to need some lock picking tools.” 

“Like Parker doesn’t have that on her already,” came the answer. 

“Remember, Miss Sparrow. We’ve a lot of work to do tomorrow,” Hinkerson was telling her before security led her out. Hardison kept watch. And as he expected, the assistant stayed for orders. “Have her followed. I want to know everything she does, even when she goes to bed. Use the GPS, don’t let her see them.” 

“Yes sir. Already have a tap on her phone,” Donovan replied. 

“Oh no you di’int!” Hardison growled, fingers moving faster. “Okay, so a bit of a change, you two still meet at the Troll, but Eliot, double down on the heavy. They’re going to be following but at a distance.” 

“I’ll drive the van, make her get into it so I can deactivate that bracelet during the shake down,” Eliot cut in. 

“Sending the schematics to you now, Eliot. Why do people always have to pull this crap?” 

Malaya sat on the table next to Hardison, licking at a paw, unimpressed. 

“Yeah, cat, that’s what I think too.” 

~ ~ ~

Eliot couldn’t help but stare at the Fremont Troll. It even felt that it stared back at him, even from across the street. At this time of night, there weren’t as many tourists around to take pictures of him. It was a pretty incredible piece of urban art, even if it was a little creepy. Especially as he was sitting in an unmarked van with goons following Parker straight to him.

“Hardison, tell me you have his tracker already,” Eliot said, grumbling to hide his uneasiness. 

The van wasn’t a Lucille model, but it did have a couple computer screens equipped in the back. One blinked on to display a map with precise labels marking streets, buildings, and moving targets. Parker, and the ones who followed her. “That enough for you?” Hardison asked.

“No, I’d rather punch the crap out of them.” 

“Ditto,” someone growled in the background. Metal clanged on metal, then a soft Russian curse followed.

“Now both you hold your horses. I’m pretty sure I will find plenty of people for you both to punch before the week is out.” The amusement in Hardison’s voice made Eliot smile, but he didn’t say anything.

“A whole week? So mean,” James muttered, then his comm went silent.

“Yeah, I got ‘em on my screen, thanks Hardison,” Eliot finally said. Parker’s dot was well ahead of the others. “You’re good, baby girl. They’re staying four blocks behind you.” 

“Did you just call me ‘baby girl?’ Who are you, Hardison?” Parker asked, her voice raising in irritation. 

“Well I could call you ‘baby doll.’ That fits too,” he answered. The background from the other two men hissed a little, as if someone snorted.

“Eliot, I have my taser.” He heard brakes outside, just behind his van. “Don’t make me use it.” 

He just laughed, moving over to the sliding door. He waited, listening to her walk back and forth a bit, giving whoever was following her time to get into place. The dots on his screen became stationary as Parker did her character justice with a little worried dance outside the van. 

Eliot didn’t even have to grab too hard around her waist to yank her inside. Parker practically threw herself backwards even as she yelped loudly for the audience. He slammed the door hard, raising his voice as he offered her the lock pick tools. “Where’s my money! You better have it this time!”

Together they worked at the bracelet, yelling out the script they’d decided on. The lock was easy to pop off. Taking the explosive out without killing the rest of the sensors was a little trickier. Parker was throwing herself around the van to rock it. Her hair and clothes were getting pretty rumpled at the same time.

But three minutes took care of everything, and he snapped it back on her wrist. One quick kiss, not for luck, before she was throwing herself out of the van onto the sidewalk with a wail. Eliot hung out the side, looking as murderous as he felt. “We’re not done. Consider the twenty the down payment. You and me, we got a long way to go here!” 

Slamming the door shut and jumping into the driver seat to leave her behind, looking crushed on the pavement, was one of the hardest things he had to do. Sometimes, his job really sucked. “OK, Hardison, she’s back out. I’m gonna circle around and get to her apartment, make sure they don’t try anything.” 

“Hardison, order me something for dinner. I think I’m going to be soaking my ass all night. Ow,” Parker said. In his rear view mirror, he could see her picking herself gently up from the sidewalk. No one was in view.

“I can do that,” Hardison offered. Eliot took a soft breath, then circled back around, heading for the Cloverfield Terrace apartments. “James, think you can keep an eye on her apartment from there?” 

The former assassin just snorted. “Please, her apartment is way easier than NORAD.” 

“OOKaaay,” Hardison replied. “I’ll just... Consider that covered.”

~ ~ ~

Parker let herself into the rundown apartment, sighing as she leaned against the door. Being the face of a con, especially one where she had to play someone utterly unlike herself, was exhausting. And then on top of that, she had to beat herself up in the van and throw herself out on her own ass. Which hurt worse than falling out of her own rigging. Not that she’d ever admit doing that to anyone. Ever.

Something was different about her fake apartment. A big fat candle, smelling of jasmine, sat on the counter, the flame the single point of light in that corner. On the table, a sack from the bakery around the corner sat next to one from the mom and pop burger joint nearby, and a bottle of one of Hardison’s better beer results. The light was on in the bathroom too, so she stepped quietly to the door. Bubbles filled the bathtub, smelling of vanilla and cinnamon. 

“James, you are my favorite!” she whispered into her comm, grinning wide. “Thank you.” 

There was no answer, at least, not a verbal one. But there was a shift of weight picked up that shifted gravel. That kind of gravel made very distinctive sound. Parker knew instantly that it was the stuff that lined the roof. He was upstairs, very literally watching over her. 

“I’m so spoiled.” Parker grabbed both sacks from the table and ran for the tub.

~ ~ ~

James sat on the edge of the roof, smiling as he ate his burger slowly. Residents came and went in the now bright courtyard. Clouds overhead sat with heavy bellies, but nothing actually came down. The promised humidity felt good against his skin. 

If this is what running a con was like, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad after all. He liked the people he’d met so far. There were some vague memories of playing spy at some point, but those memories were ancient. Almost as ancient as the memories of a small and sickly Steve Rogers. 

He listened for a moment to everything. Nothing sounded out of place in the complex. Parker was splashing a little and sighing in pleasure while she was in the bath. Hardison was talking to Malaya in the office, while Eliot was grumbling in his garage. Everything was calm. There wouldn’t be any problem if he just dropped off comms. Besides, it’s not like they couldn’t track his phone anyways.

James slipped the earbud into a small box before dropping that into his pocket. Silence reigned in his head. This was a new development and one he rather enjoyed. He hadn’t realized how noisy his internal radio was until it wasn’t. Nothing else had gone away. Actually, the nightmares had become worse. DA had commented on that again today. 

He dug his phone out of his pocket and checked the time. It was late on the East Coast, but not midnight yet. So he dialed.

It rang a couple times, before Steve picked up, yawning. “James? S’late, you okay?” 

“Yeah, I’m good. I’m sorry, it’s just been really busy past few days.” 

“No, it’s okay. I keep telling you, anytime you want to call, I’ll answer.” Steve’s voice was firm, and James couldn’t help but smile. 

“I know.” He picked at the remains of his burger, trying to pull up the courage. “How are you, the new Avengers and that?” 

“We’re good. Learning how to co-ordinate still, but we’re good. You? And your friends?” 

“Good. We’ve got a client.” James paused, squirming a bit. “I told you, they help people right?” 

“You’ve been very insistent on that.” Steve’s voice had gone warm, making the knot in James’ belly loosen some.

“Well this time, I’m actually part of it, working in the open. Not just back up security.” He smiled into the dark, still feeling pride in that.

Steve didn’t say anything at first. James could hear the whisper of sheets. Steve had been in bed, and now that warmth started to fade away. “Are you sure that’s a good thing?” 

“It is. I can do this, Steve.” He could. He had been. Three days on the job and he was already making people happier to be where they were.

“No, that’s not what I meant, James. What if someone recognizes you?” Steve’s voice changed. “There are still people out there looking for you.” 

James took a deep breath. Set his jaw stubbornly. “We know. But I can’t hide for the rest of my life.” He paused, then added, “I’m tired of being nothing.” Nothing but a tool, a weapon. A memory. Would Steve understand that?

“You’re not nothing, James. You’ve never been anything close to nothing, I promise you that.” Steve paused for a moment, letting James reflect that maybe Steve didn’t understand, before his old friend started with the expected script. “At least tell me, what city? I won’t come out, I’ll just… keep watch. I promise.” 

James let the silence grow as he thought. It still felt wrong, keeping things from Steve. But the Avengers, even just one coming out here, would expose the con and cause trouble. They wouldn’t be able to make things right for Annie and Stevie, or for DA and the others. Despite the plan that he and Parker had come up with, as a contingency. It was too early yet. He had to try on his own first.

“I can’t, Steve. I know you too well. Too damn stubborn for your own good.” He swallowed, waiting for the reaction.

Steve just laughed, all the tension draining away. “Yeah, that part never changes.” He didn’t apologize for it this time though.

James smiled, looking down in the yard again. “I need to ask something though. Did I work on things, like engines or mechanical things? Back, before?” 

“God yeah, you kept everything running. I think you took apart our old radio probably five times to figure out how it worked.” 

James took a deep breath, then let it out in satisfaction. “I didn’t know if that was a real memory or not.” He paused, thinking. “It feels good, being able to do things like that. Things that aren’t… bad.” 

“You aren’t bad. You’re not ‘nothing.’ I’ll keep telling you that until you believe it.” Steve’s tone firmed up again, but there was something else behind it.

“I did a lot of bad things, Steve. Someday, I’ll have to answer for that.” 

“Not yet. Maybe not ever. You’re starting to become a cold case for the authorities. You’ve been gone so long and they’ve got other things to keep their attention.” 

“It’s not that. It’s… It’s the dreams, sometimes. I don’t always remember when I’m awake, but when I dream?” He swallows, then whispers, “All those people are still so close.” 

There’s a long pause. Someday, he thinks, he’ll be brave enough to video chat or something. Right now, it’s best that they don’t. His hope was that maybe he’ll even be brave enough to actually face him again, some unknown future day. But not now, not yet.

“I still dream of the ice, now and then. I know I wasn’t really awake, but sometimes, I just can’t breathe,” Steve says. James swallows hard at the confession.

“I didn’t think you had nightmares too,” he replies softly.

“I do. I think we all do. Maybe that’s why we’re Avengers. Because we have those dreams, these memories. But we still get up again, and keep fighting.” Steve coughs out a bitter laugh. “Sam sometimes says I’m an idiot for thinking that. Then he tries to get me to take something to help me sleep.” 

“Would they even work?” There’s a fuzzy memory, just out of reach. Of pressing against Steve’s large body after Azzano. Both of them shivering. Neither of them able to sleep.

“About as well as alcohol, I think,” Steve said, his tone regretful and sour.

“God, I’d love to be drunk again,” James breathed out softly, then laughs. “I remember that.” 

“I remember you giving me a beer and a shot of whiskey and I’d be gone. That’s all it used to take,” Steve replied with another laugh. 

James remembered something clearly now, feeling so warm and loose with a belly full of whiskey, listening to Steve slur as he complained about the doctors telling him asthma wasn’t real. “I remember a little bit, that sometimes the whiskey would keep you from seizing up with coughing.” 

“Fuck. You really are remembering more.” There was something new in Steve’s voice, something he didn’t recognize. It wasn’t affection, but something a little… shinier somehow. “This is good.”

Some of the warmth was bleeding out of him again. His stomach clenched around the burger inside his belly. Those were memories of Bucky Barnes. Steve’s Bucky. He hated that he had to remind Steve every time.

“It doesn’t change anything, Steve. I’ll never be him again.” He felt so small, saying those words.

Steve coughed. James knew that it wasn’t the asthma anymore, but just a way Steve had learned to hold things back. “I know, James. Pretty sure that part of me is dead too. I just…” He fell silent. James gave him a moment to collect his thoughts. “I don’t care who you are or where you’ve been, or even who you’ve killed. You’re my family. That never changes.” 

Family. That raises other questions he wanted to ask, but now wasn’t the time. “Family.” He paused, then murmurs. “Family always comes home, right?” 

No more coughing. Now those were real sobs. And all James could do was sit there, holding his phone, and wait for them to end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Peggy is from the Juror #6 job, S1E11, and again from the Girls' Night Out S4E13. Lucille is from many episodes, but the most poignant was S2E12, the Three Strikes Job. Nightingale and Sparrow are names that they used before, many times they've used various names from Doctor Who cause the show writers are huge geeks just like us.  
> Last note, meet the Fremont Troll. He has his own webpage! [The Fremont Troll](http://fremont.com/about/fremonttroll-html/)
> 
> Technically, it's still Friday here, so I'm not late? Went to see the new X-Men. Boy it's a good thing I love my cheese sometimes. Still, a fun flick!


	3. The Turn

Parker was at the front door the moment the security crew unlocked it for the day. ‘Sally Sparrow’ spent two hours pacing between her desk and the elevators, catching the attention of all her co-workers. “I really would prefer being in the air duct right now,” she muttered as she went around a corner. The stares were starting to get to her.

“Just hang in there a little longer. You know what’s coming up next week, right here in Seattle, baby girl?” Hardison’s voice was soothing this time, no more asshole. 

“It had better be good, whatever it is,” Parker muttered, slamming back into her chair to face her computer. 

“Just the Northwest Chocolate Festival. Just like the one you and Sophie ran game in, back in Boston.” He smiled as he sent the schedule to her phone. “And this time, you get to take James.” 

“Hardison, you’re the best!” She replied, visually relaxing on the video feed he was watching. She even threw a thumbs up at the camera, before sliding back into her cubicle, running the same program as before. Only this time it was siphoning the pennies and dollars from real accounts into Hinkerson’s. The second program hid a compiling record that would go to every single investor as soon as Hardison triggered it at the end of the con. 

“I know I am, baby girl. Now you just relax, you’ve got forty-five minutes until Hinkerson gets there. You’re doing great.” 

“What about Eliot and James?” Parker asked softly. 

“Eliot’s down menacing a few of the security guys out by the back door, glaring like your prison grade stalker before he goes and does his city guy thing. And James is running interference at the apartments. He’s actually getting pretty good at it too.” He patched in the audio feed, James twisting the words of the other maintenance guys around to mean the exact opposite. Hardison knew that Eliot was listening in too, because half the hitter’s snarls were hiding laughter. 

“We good, Parker, we good.” Hardison turned slightly to look at the information on the Plan AV computer. “We’re right on schedule.” 

~ ~ ~ ~ 

James wished he didn’t have to work with these idiots. He had too many memories trying to crowd into his head right now. Dum Dum playing ignorant with the English bartenders, pretending he didn’t know beer at all until they forced him to try every kind. Falsworth turning it right back on the GI’s that got assigned as the Commandos support crew, convincing nearly every one he was twenty eighth in line for the throne, that’s why he had Captain America protecting him. He really wanted to be in private before he let the memory of Gabe and Jim slip free.

“So you’re saying, that if Captain America was gay, they’d have to kick him out of the Avengers?” James asked as innocently as he could, carefully unscrewing the outer cover of a washing machine.

“They’d never kick him out, they’d just replace him. Pretty sure they just dressed a guy up like him in the first place. No one, not even super solders, could sleep in ice for seventy years.” This guy, this Horace Burroughs, he had a different conspiracy theory for every day they’d worked together. Today it was that Fox News thing accusing “America’s Icon” of being corrupted by the gay agenda. Hardison had groaned and called it Fake News Network, but now the other beats were starting to pick it up.

James looked down at his left hand and flexed it, enough that the servos complained loudly. Almost maintenance time for it. “I dunno. I mean, if I could have a sci-fi hand, a gay 100-year-old super soldier doesn’t sound too far fetched.” He didn’t even look up at Horace as he took off the front of the machine next. Water had leaked everywhere inside, gumming up the wiring and creating a horrible smell. 

“Yeah, that hand is pretty slick. But Captain America? I just don’t buy it. I ain’t got nothing against gay people, but the government just couldn’t let that happen, you know? They had JFK killed cause he was banging that ball player.” Horace was working on his own project, which James appreciated. Cold chills ran down his spine. John Kennedy wasn’t one of his. But there was something about someone else, a black man, about that same time frame whispering in the back of his mind.

“You never know. Not like either of us are gonna meet him,” James muttered, trying to hide how he felt. There were so many conflicting memories and thoughts in his head, once he understood the implications of Steve being gay. He bit his inside lip, then purposely relaxed his jaw before touching an open wire. Sparks zapped and the weak current made him jump. “Fucking hell, who left this plugged in!” 

The ensuing argument let him bleed off some aggression, if just verbally. And he didn’t have to think about how Steve’s mouth tasted with Peggy’s lipstick caught between them. 

~ ~ ~ ~ 

“Sir, I think you should look at this.” Jared Hinkerson turned to glare at his assistant, already irritated that traffic had caused him to be late. He was still looking forward to pulling every little secret he could from the tiny Sparrow woman. She looked like harsh words and a little bluffing would be enough to break her.

He took the tablet that Louis Donovan handed to him, focusing on the numbers of his personal account. “Who ordered this money moved?” 

“No one, sir. I think maybe that Sparrow woman’s doing it. It has her touch on it.” Donovan looked up at him, just barely hiding the hero worship in his eyes. He was damn good at his job, but Hinkerson kept him around because he was easy to manipulate too. 

“When did this start?” 

“Just this morning. Her log ins show she was in the office at seven AM.” Donovan took the tablet back and started tapping at a couple other icons. “There’s been several complaints emailed to the floor supervisor about her being disruptive with pacing.” 

“That’s to be expected. She’s probably nervous, trying to find a way to hide the money loan and jump ship.” Hinkerson hadn’t been stupid, giving her the money. It was a hook, pull her in close so that when he sunk the line in deep, she’d never be able to wiggle free.

“I don’t know. It’s just something feels off about this.” Donovan looked at a couple more screens, then turned the tablet back to his boss. “There’s a lot more programs running off her computer than just the laundering one. I have a funny feeling about this.” 

Hinkerson took his time to explore the screens, reading everything slowly. Part of what made Donovan so good at his job was his hunches and intuition. There’d been a couple times when that particular talent kept them from going under, when the business had first started. Finally, he made a decision. “Call our independent contractor, have her look through the files, see what she pulls up that we might not. Pierce is almost as good as you, with her nose for trouble.” 

“Yes sir.” Hinkerson handed his assistant the tablet again as he leaned back into his seat. Pierce scared the piss out of him, and not just because who her father had been. But if someone was taking a run at his company, he’d rather have the cleanup crew already in place. 

~ ~ ~ ~ 

“Washington, you still in here?” The maintenance supervisor was a weaselly little guy who rarely set foot on any of the shop’s main floor. But James had been forewarned that Eliot was on the way as a city inspector. James hated Daniel Miller, for the way he treated his employees and most of the tenants. The guy was a born Hydra asshole, just in the wrong line of work. 

So he stood up and dusted himself off, giving the shorter supervisor a sweet but dumb smile. “Yeah, I’m here. The overhead lights go out in 18 again?” 

“Not yet, and it better not, either,” Miller said sourly, waving his hand for James to join him at the door. “There’s a city inspector coming over. I want you to stay with him, show him everything in building three but don’t let him go to any other building, got me?” 

“Building three, yeah. There’s nothing wrong there.” He pretended to be puzzled about why he had to go to the good building.

“And that’s the idea. These city guys, they love writing up fines and stuff to run a place out of business. Keep him in three and we don’t have to worry about laying off anyone to pay those fines, got me?” 

“Oh that’s low, dude,” Hardison whispered in his ear. James agreed, but he merely nodded.

Ten minutes later, he was meeting Eliot in the front office. He dutifully shook his hand and made small talk as he led him up the front walk to building three. Apartment 14 was the one they kept to show tenants, and James knew it was bugged by the front office. They had tapped into that feed when he loaded Hardison’s spy virus onto the network. So they spent their time looking over the apartment before Eliot verbally passed it.

Once that part was done, James led him out the back door of three, around the overgrown shrubbery and into five, which was one of the worst buildings in the complex. There, he got to sit on one of the dryers while Eliot took photos of all the violations and nibble on the donuts Eliot smuggled in with his toolbox. 

“So this Captain America stuff on the news, what’s your take on it?” Eliot asked, timing it for when James had a mouth full of sprinkles and icing.

James merely rolled his eyes and took his time finishing his donut. “Nothing new. Just more public.” 

“Seriously? He managed to hide that this whole time?” Eliot paused, looking up at James quizzically. 

James felt it was some sort of subtle test. Usually Eliot gave him a hint about what he was really asking about. Not this time, so James merely shrugged. “Steve’s bisexual. That’s the term, right? When you like guys and girls? All that with Peggy,” and he waved the next donut around in the air, “that was real. Just not the whole story.” He paused, mid bite, then stared at the wall, sorting through memories of dancing girls and kisses on the ferris wheel at Coney Island. “I think maybe we both were.” 

The softness in Eliot’s voice finally gave him the hint he was looking for. “And now? A lot of things change over time, you know.” 

“Mmhmm,” James replied, nibbling at his donut still. Despite the memories popping up because of the news, his body still gave no indication that anything below the neck was interested. “Nowadays, I’ve got more to worry about getting my head straight. Still can’t stand it when most people touch me.” He flushed at that, looking away from Eliot who turned his back courteously to avoid seeing it. “Looked that up too. Not the touch thing, but the uh,” and he blushed harder, “The sexuality thing. Read that it’s called asexual. I like it.” _It’s safer._

“Hey, I’m the guy who sleeps with two people, I’m not gonna be throwing any judgment around about who you do or don’t sleep with. I just want you to know it’s okay, whatever you decide.” Eliot was looking at him again, his face soft, and maybe understanding.

“Thanks. Hey, I should take you down to the furnace room. There’s a running bet in the maintenance pool about when this building’s gonna catch fire again.” That’s what they were supposed to be here for. 

“Again?!” 

~ ~ ~ ~

“Steve, we really should do a press release. Letting Fox News control the story is a disaster,” Pepper Potts said over his video feed. 

“I’m a little busy, Pepper,” Steve said with a sigh. Natasha was piloting, or else she’d have something fun to add to the discussion. Steve was just glad it was him and the girls this trip. With Sam and Clint off on their own mission, it would be a great way to see how Wanda handled taking more responsibility, he thought. 

“When you get back. Just think about it, okay? For me? After all, this is way easier than dealing with any of Tony’s disasters.” Pepper found a soft smile for him, and he realized that he was being a stubborn asshole again.

“Okay, okay. And hey, Pepper? I know you’ve already got one half written, so let me set the record straight. Not gay, but pansexual.” He paused, listening to the ghost of his mother’s voice again. “And thank you, Pepper. I mean it.” 

“You’re welcome, Steve. Be safe out there.” She waved a little before turning off the link. He shut down his end too, but took a moment to collect his thoughts. Mostly about what Natasha would say next. He turned to look forward, but all she gave him was a soft little smile before winking. Crap, he was in trouble now.

Steve leaned back in his chair, then pulled out his phone. He’d been hoping, maybe for a message, a text, something. Still silence from James. Steve wanted to ask if he remembered any of it yet, using each other to learn how to kiss, right up until that last night before the train. It wasn’t fair to James and he knew it. Maybe Sam was right, and this was just Steve’s way of trying to hold on to the past. 

No messages, right. So he flipped to the photos and videos he kept on his phone, going to the last one. A potato battery. That had been a revelation to him, watching James mutter to himself as he put one together. It even powered a small LED light. The delight on James’ face when it turned on was enough to ease his conscience about a lot of things, but several other things started twisting in the space left behind. Compromises really sucked.

“Steve, wake up, we’re thirty minutes out. Get your lazy ass up here and go over the op with us again. Maybe we’ll be done in time to find you a nice boyfriend, while we’re here.” Natasha’s voice was light, which made her words slice even more.

“Very funny. Maybe we’ll find you a date too,” he shot back. Then phone was put away, as well as his thoughts about James. That was Natasha’s real talent. Getting him to focus on the job at hand. 

~ ~ ~ ~

James was sitting at his table, his potato powered light shining onto his biology book while he worked through the explanation of how the ways molecules could signal across synapses, when someone started knocking on his door. Parker was in his ear, chattering to Eliot. She was practicing for the next day, Eliot playing the mark in the scam, while Hardison fed her the lines. His new potato powered clock read 8 pm, long past his supposed working hours. All three of them fell silent to listen in as well.

“James? It’s Annie Gallagher. I hate to do this, but I could really use a favor.” Her voice was muffled, but a little panicky too. He only took a second to drag his glove back on his left hand before jumping to the door.

“Is everything okay?” He felt himself ducking down a bit, watching her face in worry. Stevie was at her side, holding a shopping bag of clothes and his plastic shield again.

“Mostly okay. I gotta go pick up my sister, she lost her job. Would you mind watching Stevie for a while?” Annie’s face was drawn tight. She couldn’t stop playing with her keys either. “My usual babysitter is out in Everett, seeing to her mother.” 

“Yeah sure, no problem. I was just doing homework.” He smiled shyly down at Stevie, stepping aside to let him in. He was glad he only had the one gun with him, securely hidden in the small of his back. He gave Stevie a moment to look around, then leaned in more to Annie. “You sure you’re okay? I can go with you, if you need me to.” 

She flushed, ducking her head before shaking it no. “No, it’s just… Alice works in a bad part of town, and I hate taking Stevie there.” Then Annie sighed. “Just to warn you, she’ll probably be moving back in with us.” 

“That’s what family is for, right?” He shifted, not sure what to say, then dug for his phone. “Let me give you my number, just in case? So you can check in with us and everything.” He glanced back to check on Stevie, but the boy was looking at his movies piled up next to the Blu-ray player, not listening in. 

“Thank you, James. Really, you have no idea how much better I feel about this. He should be asleep by the time I get back. He’s got his pajamas with him.” She took his number, then to his surprise, she hugged him hard before heading down the hall to the stairs, jingling her keys in her hand.

James bowed in a little, feeling warm and happy with her trust. “Hardison, you’re tracking her, right?” he whispered into his comm.

“Of course. You tell us if you need anything,” came the reply. 

“You watch a lot of cartoons, James,” Stevie piped up, grinning at him from the TV stand. 

“Yeah I do. ‘Cause they’re awesome. What’s your favorite?” Together they sat down on the threadbare couch to discuss the merits of Toy Story against Captain America cartoons. James agreed to a snack, but it was easy to say no to soda. Didn’t have any. Which meant he was missing out, according to Stevie.

“And why do you have homework? You’re too old for school!” 

“That’s because I went into the Army after high school. Now that I’m out, I wanna go to college, learn something more than just fixing things,” James replied. Parker had explained that a lot of guys like who he was pretending to be had done just that. He’d spent a whole afternoon, just imagining what it would’ve been like back in the 40’s, if he had gone home from the war with that chance. 

“Like what kind of things?” Stevie was watching him over a glass of juice, eyes wide at the thought of even more school.

“Well, you know how Dr. Banner and Tony Stark can build really neat stuff? I wanna learn how to do biology, so I can figure out how to help people who are sick.” 

“Like Steven Rogers was when he was a kid!” Everything came back to his idol, it seems.

“Yeah, just like Steve Rogers.” He couldn’t help it, he ruffled Stevie’s hair with his good hand. “My little brother, he was sick a lot, just like Rogers was.” James was pretty sure that grown up Steve wouldn’t mind being talked about this way. 

“Yeah? What happened to him?” Stevie asked, rubbing his stomach a little. James realized then that he should’ve asked what kind of food the boy shouldn’t have. Or if he should have anything at all.

“He works in New York, as a mediator.” Never mind that he mediated things with a shield against people’s heads most of the time. “He still has to take his inhaler everywhere.” That set Stevie to thinking, leaning back into his seat while Buzz Lightyear waved his arm around in the air. 

Something in the general atmosphere of the building shifted, put him on edge. James couldn’t explain it, even to himself. But from one second being warm and comfortable with the boy, he went into the next on alert, all his senses searching out into the hall. “Hardison, tell me you still have the cameras on,” he whispered.

“Yeah of course I… ahh... James? How did you know that?” was the answer.

“Ask me later.” He stood up and swept Stevie up into his arms, heading into his bedroom. “Something’s wrong, Stevie. I need you to hide for a moment, okay?” 

The boy had yelped, then gone completely limp when he was lifted up. His eyes were wide as he stared up at James. “Is it the bad men?” 

James thought maybe he should’ve had a long talk with Annie already, but he nodded. “I think so. I have a place where you’ll be safe. I’m gonna give you a code phrase, okay? If anyone says “Stevie, we know Rebecca,” then it’ll be safe for you to come out, okay?” 

“What if it’s my mom?” The boy was holding his shield again, almost curling up behind it. It was almost eerie how it resembled his Steve.

“This will be over before your mom gets here, I promise. Now listen, I’m gonna lift you up into the closet. There’s a trap door up there, I want you to climb up into it. There’s a backpack you can sit on, and there’s a flashlight too, okay?” 

Stevie nodded, and went up. This had only taken about a minute, but James felt it wasn’t going fast enough. The moment Stevie’s foot disappeared into the dark, he was headed back out into the living room, his Glock already warming in his right hand.

He heard thumps down the hallway. Someone was pounding on Annie’s door. James tossed his hat to the side, shaking his hair down into his face before easing the door open just a crack. He could smell them. Three men, bulky, slow. But someone had slipped control of the cameras out from under Hardison. 

The door gave way with a crack and two of the men went inside. The third stayed in the hall, playing sentry. “Hardison, where’s Annie?” 

“She just stopped at the address where her sister works. Tapping into street cams now.” 

“Might need to get Eliot over there. Also, can you turn out the lights in this building?” He cracked the door open a fraction wider, looking to see if anyone else was near the stairs. 

“Done and done. Eliot’s five minutes from Annie. And here goes,” Hardison paused, then the entire building went black. James could hear people across the hall complaining, but he was already moving. He wanted to be in the Gallagher’s apartment before the lights reset and anyone else got caught up in this.

The sentry never realized he was there. The idiot was fumbling with his cell phone, trying to turn it into a flash light when James clotheslined him back through the open door. He followed through, using the side of his left hand to tap the guy’s head, hard. 

The other two men were yelling and cursing, fumbling around in the darkness. Two steps inward, James had taken down the biggest of the three with a sharp metal elbow to the throat. He used the man’s gagging as cover to leap over Annie’s little couch to kick the third guy in the head. That man’s cell phone fell to the floor, bouncing to make light flicker back and forth. 

That guy had a gun too, with a silencer. James felt more than heard the bullets go flying into the dark as the idiot sprayed the apartment with the entire clip. One bullet tugged at his right sleeve, and stung sharply at the skin. Behind him, glass shattered and something fell.

He couldn’t deny the thrill of glee as he punched down with his left hand, knocking the guy flat and silent. “Asshole.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chocolate festival was hilarious, and it was also S4E8, the Boiler Room Job. 
> 
> And oooh goodness. Things are starting to get interesting around here!


	4. Twisting in the Wind

Hardison brought the lights up after James had drug the sentry into the apartment and wedged the door to stay upright. Across from him, he could see the broken glass and picture frame on the ground. He didn’t recognize anyone in the photo. “Eliot’s just around the corner from Annie. What is going on there?” Parker demanded.

 _Mission report_ , he thought. “Three men, armed, tried to break into her apartment.” He was searching their bodies, pulling guns and knives out of their pockets. “No ID on them. Dumb and slow.” Useless, he tried to say. Too close to how he felt sometimes to actually do it. “Cloning their cell phones for you.” That only took a moment too, thanks to the simple program Hardison had made. 

There was another noise out in the hallway. James slipped to the door quietly, peeking out of the crack. The elevator dinged open, and a single person in a wheelchair rolled out of it. DA, from downstairs. 

James let out the breath he had been holding, shifting the door so he could step out again. DA pulled to a stop, aiming the Beretta with a practiced grip. His eyes were sharp but he relaxed his aim when he saw it was James. “Heard something, thought I’d come up and check.” 

James angled his head to Annie’s apartment behind him. “Someone sent some goons to shake down Annie. Only she had to go rescue her sister.” 

DA clucked his tongue, rolling up to the door to look in. “Nice work. All I heard were some thumps. Annie’s boy okay?” 

James shrugged a little, ducking his head and hiding his left hand behind him. “I had him hide. I was babysitting him when I heard them come up the stairs.” 

“They from the complex owners?” DA asked, rolling his lips up into a sneer. 

James blinked before looking at the vet a little more closely. “Why do you say that?” 

He was surprised when the vet laughed. “Son, nothing’s been fixed around here since I moved in. Then here you come, changing things. I know when something’s up.” 

“Smart guy, your friend,” Parker whispered into his ear.

“Well, maybe.” James paused, weighing his options in the second he allowed himself. He decided he trusted DA. Which is why he dropped one of his liberated guns into DA’s lap, next to the Beretta. “I’m gonna go get Stevie from hiding, then figure out what our next step is.” 

“Eliot’s pulling up now,” Parker whispered. 

“Next step is me watching the boy while you get these guys out of Annie’s apartment. Bad enough they shot up the place,” DA muttered, giving James’ arm a hard look before turning to roll his chair back out into the hall. He really should start wearing black shirts again. Both guns had disappeared from sight. 

James breathed his next request for Hardison. “Did you do a background check on DA?” 

“No, I didn’t even know he existed. Of course I did!” Hardison muttered, then whispered the basics in quick, short sentences. “Donald Aloysius Weber, born in Waco Texas in August 1951. Joined the US Army in 1969, did three tours as a helo mechanic, came back minus two legs. Purple heart, record sealed. And no Parker, I can’t unseal something that’s paper only in the Pentagon. Medical discharged, been living in Seattle doing odd jobs until retirement. He’s clean except for some aggravated drinking charges.” 

It only took Hardison the time from when James left Annie’s door propped up again, go around through his apartment, and reach up into the closet for Stevie. “Hey there Stevie, we know Rebecca.” The boy dived for him immediately, a quick sob slipping from him. James frowned and set him on the bed to check over him, only breathing again when he confirmed there were no physical injuries. “Hey hey, it’s okay. I made the bad guys go to sleep, okay?” 

Wrong thing to say. Stevie burst into more tears and threw himself around James’ neck. One glance at his own arm explained part of the panic. His white shirt was even wetter than it had been in the hall just a minute ago. “No hey, I’m okay too. It’s just a scratch, look.” Once he eased the crying boy off his shoulder, he took the shirt off to wipe at the wound. It had been a decent graze, but now it was more of a deep scratch. Apparently, serum healing worked faster when he actually ate properly and slept enough. Who knew?

“See? All fine,” he said, trying to reassure Stevie. But now the boy was looking at his left shoulder, where metal met ragged, ugly scarring.

“Your arm, James. What happened?” Tears were still flowing on Stevie’s face as he stared. 

James sat him down on the bed again, kneeling down in front of him. “I was in Iraq. It was a bad place, and I got hurt. When I came home, I qualified for an experimental treatment, this.” He held up his metal hand to Stevie, watching the boy’s eyes go even wider. “I told you, I wanted to go to college and learn how to help people, right? I wanna make it so this kinda thing doesn’t happen anymore.” 

“James,” Eliot whispered into his ear. “I found Annie’s SUV, but I don’t see either her or her sister.” 

“Tracking her phone, she’s walking away, to the west of you Eliot,” Hardison replied.

“And now you’re here, to help me and my momma?” Stevie finally said, not hearing the conversation going on in James’ ear.

“That’s right. Now I need a favor from you, okay? I need you to stay here with DA. I’m gonna move those bad guys outside and call the cops, and then I’m gonna go check on your mom. Can you keep DA from throwing away all my movies?” He tried a winning smile, hearing a snort from DA in the hallway. The old vet had seen his arm too, but hadn’t said anything.

“As long as you bring back my mom, I won’t let him touch ANYTHING!” the boy promised, throwing himself at James for one more hug.

“Thanks, you’re the best, Stevie.” He hugged the boy back for a moment, until Stevie relaxed a bit. He let go to stand up and grab a clean undershirt as well as a darker button up.

He made sure both Stevie and DA were settled before heading out. DA saw him to the door, eying his left hand. “That’s a helluva piece of hardware,” he murmured.

“Oh, you have no idea,” James answered, his nerves twitching now that he’d had a chance to think. “Be back soon.” He closed and locked the door behind him. He stood for a moment, listening as he set his jaw and gave himself another moment to think.

“James, I found their cell phones. Both women are gone. This is now a hostage situation,” Eliot growled into his ear. 

The cell phone in his pocket beeped, and he pulled it out. A text from Annie, simply saying “RUN.” His breath caught, even as his blood pressure spiked. He may not do the old work anymore, but his body knew what was about to happen. 

“Well I know the first place to get answers,” James said, stalking back into the Gallagher’s apartment. One of the thugs was starting to sit up, freezing when he saw James. “Okay then, you get to go first.” 

~ ~ ~

Eliot finally slowed down when he pulled into the apartment parking lot. His comms were silent, which could mean several things. James had turned his off or Parker couldn’t find it in herself to talk him down from whatever he was doing, or he was just working some angle. The parking lot was empty as he pulled next to the truck James was driving for this character. Eliot stepped out of the car, listening for a moment. Everything was silent. No one had started a panic.

“He’s in the basement with them,” whispered Parker. “Hurry Eliot.” 

He hurried.

#

There were stairs that went down to the basement closest to the parking lot. Eliot took them two at a time. The light was on in the furnace room, which made sense. It was the most remote part, with a heavy steel door if necessary. He could hear a soft shuffle, someone moving against the floor. 

He almost slid up to the door like he normally would have, but he knew James had at least two guns, maybe more with him. So he stomped just outside the room before stopping in the door frame. It took him a minute to process what he saw. 

James stood in the center of the room, wearing just an undershirt and jeans, showing off his metal arm. The plates flexed and reseated themselves as he stared at his feet. There were three other guys in the furnace room, tied around pipes in ways that they couldn’t really see each other around James standing in the center. One guy in particular, wearing a spectacular new bruise blooming across his face, was tied up to the pipes right at James’ feet. Eliot could practically smell the terror coming off the kid. 

All three looked up at him. He tried to straighten his back, raise his chin in a command pose. “Situation report,” he growled, hoping James would give him a hint at what tactic he was playing. 

James raised his chin, turning to look at Eliot. With his back to the prisoners, he winked before using his Soldier voice. “Three hostiles, disarmed and taken prisoner. Awaiting questioning.” 

“And the boy?” Eliot knew already, but he was trying to think ahead.

“Secured. Orders?” James shifted, flexing his fists again to make the servos in his arm whine and the plates click into place. 

Eliot stepped in and knelt by the guy at the Soldier’s feet. “Well let’s find out what these guys know. And start with this one” 

Above him, James reached into his belt to bring out a wicked little knife. Eliot stepped back to give him room and tried hard not to laugh himself silly when all three started babbling over each other, trying to give as much information as fast as they could. 

~ ~ ~

“Parker, Hardison, I’m pretty sure that Steven Rogers would be disappointed in us right now.” Eliot glanced over at James, standing at the foot of the stairs in the maintenance corridor. He was breathing faster, but he nodded before heading upstairs. He agreed, that was the right thing to say. “These guys aren’t with the complex. They’re just thugs. Someone put out a bounty on Annie and her son.” Eliot was headed upstairs with James, thinking fast. “We never looked into who Stevie Gallagher’s dad was.” They shared a look, something they couldn’t say out loud. They’d planned for this part of the con, but had hoped it wouldn’t happen. 

The advantage of having a crew who knew the plan by heart was that he didn’t have to spell it out. “I’m on it,” Hardison replied. 

“I think we should move Stevie and DA somewhere else, for the night at least,” James said, pausing to pull a thick red long sleeved shirt on over his white undershirt.

“Yeah, I think so too. Headquarters?” Eliot suggested.

“No, I’ll get the downstairs apartment ready,” Parker said. “The more important thing is, did these assholes tell you where Annie and her sister are.” 

“Yeah. We’re headed to the docks in a minute,” Eliot said, just before they knocked on the apartment door before opening it. The problem with planning ahead is that there’s always a chance that an unknown element will get in the way. Parker had referred to it like that when they explained the possibilities to James. It just made the former assassin grind his teeth even harder.

“Stevie, we know Rebecca,” James said. A very short blur met him at the door, wrapping itself around James’ waist. Across the living room, Eliot caught the eyes of a man in a wheelchair. DA, he thought. And there were two very distinct shapes under the folded legs of his trousers. Eliot nodded at him, vet to vet. Slowly, DA nodded back. Eliot felt a bit of respect, but the old vet had shifted his attention back to James.

He was sitting on the floor, holding Stevie to his chest, murmuring softly. The only way Eliot could hear what was said was thanks to the ear buds. “Stevie, I need you to tell me, no more secrets. Who are the bad men that your mother’s hiding from?” 

The little boy hiccuped, then tried to push away. “I can’t tell you, that’s family stuff.” 

James let him push away, but didn’t let him get too far. “I can’t help your mom if I don’t know, Stevie.” 

Eliot stayed back, letting James handle this. He already cherished the relationship he had with the boy, and Eliot knew how special that could be, for anyone. Not just an ex assassin trying to figure his way back into the world.

“My dad is a guy named Patrick. He works for the bad men and when I was a baby, Mom and Aunt Alice ran away. They never told me more than that,” Stevie finally said, wilting back into James’ arms.

“I can work with that,” Hardison muttered. “Actually that helps a lot.” 

Eliot looked back up at DA watching them still. “We need to take you somewhere safe, in case more of these guys show up.” 

The old vet nodded, and finally spoke. The Texas drawl knocked a decade off Eliot’s age, how easily it dragged him back home. “I know a place we can go. Probably better that we’re not associated with you either.” 

“I’ll come pick them up in Lucille 3.0. It’s got that equipment lift that’ll work for his wheel chair,” Parker said.

“Okay. I have a friend coming to pick you up. Probably better that you wait downstairs in your apartment. She’s got a van with a lift for you,” Eliot said. 

“Appreciate that. Taxis and I, we’re not on speaking terms.” DA finally rolled his chair forward, touching James on his left shoulder. “Bring Stevie down, then you two go what you have to so’s you can get Annie back.” 

The two guns under his pant legs disappeared. One of them went to James, changing the way he moved as he stood up. The other gun… Eliot actually had no clue about. 

“James, we’re gonna have a talk about the kind of friends you’ve been making here, after this is over,” Eliot growled. 

~ ~ ~ 

Parker pulled up in front of the complex, then backed into the handicap spot. There was already a fake placard hanging from the rear view mirror, just in case someone commented on it. She did check that the ramp had space to operate first, before she got out and headed inside. Apartment 14 was in the back, but she didn’t meet anyone in the hallway. Regardless, she still stood for a second, listening. No sounds in the hallway, and only a deep murmur of a man’s voice inside the apartment. The boys were planning things out quietly while they waited for her to get into place. She knocked quietly, waited until she heard someone move closer, then gave the pass phrase. “Stevie, I know Rebecca.” 

The door eased open, and an older man in a wheel chair glared up at her. His hair was trimmed short, but he looked an awful lot like Eliot would at his age, she thought. “Are you DA? I’m Sally, James’ friend.” Plan AV was in action, better to stick to the scripts.

“Yeah, that’s me. Your van out front?” he rolled back a bit, allowing her to step into the apartment. Stevie was curled up on a dusty old arm chair, shivering under a thick red blanket. 

“It is. You just tell me where you want to go.” She tried a smile, but the situation had her too tense to put any heart into it.

“You just head south on Marginal, I’ll tell you when to stop,” DA grunted, but he spun his chair around to go pick up a duffel to toss at her. She caught it deftly, then used it to hide a smile as DA scooped Stevie up and held him close in his wheelchair. “You mind driving while I hold onto this guy?” he asked.

“Of course not,” she replied, moving around the apartment to turn off the lights for him, then wheeled them into the hallway, only pausing to lock up. 

Stevie never moved until they were securely in the van. The amount of technical hardware caught his attention then. “This is a spy van!”

“Kinda. It’s our mobile office.” Parker paused for a second, then started Animaniacs on one screen, then finished securing the ramp. “This is one of James’ favorites, you know.” That seemed to distract him enough for her to get into the driver’s seat and pull out. Marginal Way, he’d said. OK, probably that VA place that James had mentioned. 

“No, this is a spy van,” DA muttered, glaring at her in the rear view mirror. “What kind of people are you?” 

“Believe it or not, we’re actually good guys.” This time she smiled. Honesty felt good, even after a decade of doing this kind of work.

“I’ll hold off about believing that, if you don’t mind,” DA muttered. He even sounded like Eliot a little, what with the accent and the low voice. Not enough gravel though. 

They fell silent the rest of the way, except for when he told her to take specific turns. Not a straight shot down Marginal, but shifting back and forth. Then she realized, he was either trying to get her lost, or trying to shake a tail they might have picked up at some point. So she didn’t argue, just listened to the boys in her ear as they narrowed down where on the docks this was going to happen at tonight. 

The VA place was closed, with just perimeter lights on. Parker wondered for a moment if she’d have to break them in, but when she parked, a tall figure separated from the shadows and walked towards them. He had a military way of walking too, possibly this Sam they’d talked about. Or THAT Sam, the one they had to watch out for. “This your friend, DA?” 

The guy had walked to the passenger side of the fan to knock on the door. Parker flipped the lock so he could get in. He was dark skinned, with a thin goatee, and built more like Hardison was than Eliot. “I’m supposed to say I know Rebecca?” he said.

“Yeah that’s him. Thanks for coming out Sam, I really appreciate it.” DA had pushed his chair as far forward as he could, reaching out to shake this Sam’s hand. “Wanna help us out of here?” 

“No problem DA. Can’t let my best volunteer down, now could I?” Sam broke into an easy smile, one that made Parker want to trust him. It even reminded her of Hardison a little. 

“Right, I’ve got the ramp,” she said, hopping out to go to the back. DA came out the same way he went in, Stevie wrapped up in his lap. The boy was sound asleep now. 

“This is a nice van you’ve got,” Sam said, whistling softly as he looked around it. 

“Borrowed it from a friend,” she replied flatly. Thankfully the only screen active was the one she’d played Animaniacs on. 

“Uh huh. Makes me wonder what kind of business your friend is in,” he replied, giving her one of Those Looks. Shit. Probably THAT Sam.

“He’s a video photographer, does a lot of local commercials,” she lied easily. “Could probably get you a good rate for the VA, if you want me to ask.” 

“Stop flirting you two. Sally, tell James thanks. And for god sakes, be careful!” DA muttered at her, rolling towards another van parked just down the way. 

“Yes Sarge,” she said to his back, waiting until he was probably out of earshot before she turned to glare at the Sam person, shoving DA’s duffel bag into his arms. “Look, I’m not supposta break silence, but I need to know. Are you THAT Sam? The one with wings?” The ramp was going up so slow! Hardison needed to fix that.

The man tensed. His heart beat jumped a tick, then his breath caught and he relaxed, spreading his hands out wide to lie, “Hey I got no clue what you’re talking about. I’m a councilor here.”

Parker jumped, almost hissed. “Oh you’re good, but yeah, you’re THAT Sam. Listen, whatever happens, Steve Rogers cannot intervene, okay?” She stared at him, hand slipping down to where her taser was hidden.

“Now hold on, I don’t know what you’re going on about, I swear, but listen..” He was shifting, getting ready to take action. His body language telegraphed that he was right handed, and he already had his left foot braced. 

“No you hold on, Wilson. It’s for Rogers’ own good. Shit is about to go down, yeah, but Rogers would make things so much worse. Keep him out.” 

Now he moved, reaching to grab for her but she was already around him, sliding into the van to take off. He tried to jerk the door open, but she swerved and pulled away, waiting until he was clear before she gunned it.

Three blocks away, she jumped out to switch plates front and back. Then she peeled off the black vinyl on both sides of the van to reveal advertising for a local locksmith.

Six blocks away from there, she stopped to get into her own gear. “OK boys, here I come,” she muttered. “You better be sure this is the right thing to do.” 

“It is,” Eliot muttered. “Ukrainian fishing boat, docked at the south end of the Fisherman's Terminal. We think we’ve found where they’re holding Annie and Alice. And Parker? He’s here.” 

“Shit!”

~ ~ ~ ~

Sam watched the van drive off, the strange blond handling it easily. “Hill, Barton, do you copy?” 

“Yeah Sam. What’s the matter, can’t handle a cat burglar?” Barton teased. 

“Yeah, whatever. Listen, maybe we should think about what she said. Steve isn’t exactly clear headed about this right now.” Sam bit his lip. He hated talking about Steve like this, but he also couldn’t let this blow up in his face either. 

Hill took a moment to answer, then her steady voice worked its magic on his nerves. “Rogers is currently on assignment in Europe with Romanoff and Maximoff. If this really is happening tonight, there’s no way he’d be able to get here in time.” Maria really was the best ever. 

“Okay. Then let me talk to DA, see what he can tell me about the situation, then I’ll gear up. You have them in sight?” Sam looked towards the van, mentally resisting what he knew was coming.

“Yeah, Fisherman's, just like they told the girl.” The comms fell silent, but Sam couldn’t shake the feeling that they were missing something here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm calling this van Lucille 3.0, because I know there's one that gets blown up in the Maltese Falcon Job at the end of season two, and ~~I thought he'd lost one more somewhere along the way.~~ He lost one to Chaos in the Ho Ho Ho Job. Lucille is Hardison's baby, remember that.
> 
> You guys... you made me all verklepft last week. I was thinking maybe I'd crack 100 kudos by the time I posted this, but daaang you knocked it out of the park! Thank you all so so much for sticking with me!
> 
> And uhm.. Hoo boy, fun yeah? I'm just uh.. *puts out the basket of cookies and the other with the stress balls again. So yeah.. THAT Sam. Added a few tags too. 
> 
> Editing to add one more note. Yeah, the action gets a little slidey in this chapter, and I need to warn everyone, next two chapters are going to be even goosier. Hang with me, I swear it wraps up with lots of sense afterwards! Or you can throw things at me.
> 
> ETA pt 2: The awesome GretaOto corrected me on Seattle Geography, so instead of Pier 91, this would be closer to Fisherman's Terminal. Yay google fail on my part. whups.


	5. Three Ways 'till Sunday

The three men stood together, waiting for Parker. Hardison tried to project calm, but Eliot was trying to watch everything while James glared a hole into the hull of the boat. The hitter and ex-assassin had changed clothes, according to plan. Now they were dressed identically: black combat pants and boots, dark jackets with the left sleeve ready to come off when needed, silver fingers shining through leather finger-less gloves, long brown hair floating free and black masks with goggles. Unless you were close enough to see the tiny turquoise beads braided into Eliot’s hair, it was impossible to tell them apart. And that was the heart of the plan. It creeped Hardison out more than just a little, even as he felt pride at the quality of work he’d done on Eliot’s arm. “Parker, what’s your ETA?”

“Pulling in now.” Across from them, headlights flashed from the parking lot. “Give me the count.” 

“From five on my mark,” Eliot growled. “Mark!” He and James started for the boat, while Hardison started on the keyboard of his netbook. It was just as much of a relief for him to start the next phase as it was for James to finally do something. 

“Mark! Do it, Hardison!” Parker ordered. 

“With pleasure, mamacita,” he murmured, hitting the commands that would drop their comm system back to private, instead of letting Shield piggyback their signal. It had been extremely frustrating, running two levels of the game without tipping Shield off that they’d been busted. Skye was very, very good. He’d have to watch out for her, once she realized the game he’d played. 

“Welcome to your all night Leverage broadcasting station, running free and clear into the night.” He reported, just as Eliot and James leapt up onto the boat. Another set of commands, and everything digital on the boat belonged to him. “For your dance card tonight, we have two debutantes in the cabin, four patrolling below decks, and an indeterminate amount in the hold. This is not a fishing boat.”

“No, it is a smuggler’s boat,” James shot back, his voice sliding into the Russian accent again. It was almost comfortable to listen to, now that he’d gotten used to it. “I do not think they would hold the women here. This is how He came in.” 

“You know, I was looking forward to running a few jobs in this town first,” Hardison muttered, knowing that none of his teammates were listening. “I seriously thought we had time.” He left it unspoken how much this told him about James. Or rather, about the Winter Soldier. How much effort everyone was willing to put into getting him in their claws. Sometimes it seemed that the only people that wanted him to be free were the four of them.

Eliot had gone straight down in the hold, and his camera showed a dozen women and a couple men, bunked down in cramped quarters. He said something in Russian, something that got him a negative answer. His next question was answered with an enthusiastic yes, as they ran to him to exit the hold the way he came in. “Hardison, make sure they make it off the docks okay. 

Next to his netbook, he had the set of tasers Parker had trained him on. “Yes sir. JG, how you doing up there?” 

A thud, a crunch, several low moans and whimpers punctuating the rapid Russian conversation that followed, then finally James replied. “The Captain did not know anything, but his first mate was Hydra. I know where they are.” 

The people that Eliot had freed were streaming past him. He nodded, tried to smile reassuringly at them, but mostly just pointed which way off the docks after handing them the care packages they’d put together, just in case. Phone cards, visa gift cards, charged cell phones, their business cards in both English and Russian. “Should we really just let them run off, Eliot? Will they be okay here?”

“They know where to go. Couple of them said they’d been here for several months, working off their smuggling fees.” A grunt, and Eliot laughed as he murmured his usual “Hey, how ya doin?” to someone, then several louder thumps. 

“Then we need to get out of here,” Hardison said. James dropped from the top deck of the boat beside Hardison, making the wooden dock shudder and sway under them when he landed. Then Eliot brought up the rear. The last woman off the boat looked between the two masked men, then crossed herself and ran faster. “Yeah, that pretty much tells me who they rode with.” 

The three of them ran for the van then, James whispering easily under the mask. “They’re set up in a warehouse down the way. We were supposed to raid the boat like we did, only they didn’t expect us to take all the electronics. Or switch comms before we hit.” 

“I did get a lot of information out of it, but I’d like to wait until we’re at Lucille to decipher it,” Hardison confirmed. “As far as them listening, I limited a lot this past week.” That had been fun, running the triple deke to keep Hydra finding the Shield bugs or vice versa, or either of them finding his own. He didn’t want to do it again. Ever.

“The uniform works though. None of them could tell us apart, only freak out that there were two of us somehow,” Eliot said.

Parker finally spoke up. “Good. That makes me feel a little better. OK James, which warehouse? Oh, and Shield is pissing their pants that they lost us!” She laughed, which did the most for lightening Hardison’s mood. 

“Heh, I got a present for them too,” he said, sliding the door open to let the two hitters inside. Parker was already behind the wheel, driving off even as he closed the door behind himself. All of Lucille’s screens were lit up, like a beacon bringing him home. “Oh you lovely ladies are the best thing ever.”

Eliot popped the mask off, rubbing at his cheek as he looked it over. “Seriously, how do you stand to wear these? I can’t breathe.” 

James just shrugged, then moved in next to Hardison to pull up a map. “We are free of everyone’s bugs, yes?” 

“Except for the tracker bug that Sam with the Wings stuck on the door, yep,” Hardison replied. All three of them looked up at Parker at that.

“What? I don’t like complications!” Parker grinned without any compunctions or apology. Just the way they loved her.

“OK, so we’re where they think we should be, so that’s good,” James said as he pulled up the map to point out a warehouse two streets over. Hardison punched in the address for a quick search for blueprints and owner registration, automatically going back as far as digital records allowed. “Yeah, that site’s been doctored a lot.” 

Eliot slid up next to him on the opposite side from James. All the air around Hardison felt scrunched up with him between their two larger bodies, but he dealt with it. “How many blue print changes did you register?” Eliot asked.

“Oh, only eight. Kinda sloppy work, so I think they were doing this as a rush job.” He pulled up the blue print that had all the appropriate watermarks that felt authentic. “OK, this one’s probably the most accurate to the actual building, but it’s fifteen years old and surely shit has been remodeled inside. Seattle’s growing that fast.” 

Parker’s the one that got the million-dollar question. “And the actual owner?”

Eliot put a gentle hand on his belly and pushed Hardison back out of the way so that he could crunch in with James that much better without him in the middle. He wanted to fuss, but this was their show now. The stakes were too high for him to try and handle it his normal way. He glanced up at Parker, who gave him a brilliant smile. That always helped him feel better. When she wasn’t tossing him off of buildings, that is. “You know exactly who, just through a few shell corporations. Cloverfield.” He turned to look back at the boys. “You guys know Shield is gonna bust in even faster if I’m not at the keyboard, right?” 

James shoved a keyboard into his belly, then turned to look at him, head tilting to the side. He still wore the mask, and Hardison realized all over again why Hydra had him wear it. Far too intimidating for words. He swallowed, then gave the ex-assassin a thumbs up. James’ head bobbed, then he turned back to the screen to mutter with Eliot. Then Hardison caught it. There was a tiny little braid, tucked in behind James’ left ear. But with no beads on it. Just another layer of subterfuge? Or did the man have a little more of Eliot’s style rub off on to him?

~ ~ ~ ~

Ten minutes later, Eliot felt reasonably secure they had accounted for all possible wrinkles in their new plan. “This is gonna be the bumpier version of Plan AV. There’s no way Vassiliev hasn’t been activated.” 

“Then it’s probably a good thing that Shield is about to break back in to our systems.” Hardison muttered. “I’m staying ahead of them, but just barely. Gimme a count, Parker.” 

Eliot took a deep breath and wiggled his jaw, then slid the mask and goggles back on. He didn’t like having his face covered like this, but he had to admit, the goggles were nice. Hardison had loaded them with all sort of optics, including the auto dimmer and infrared feeds but he hadn’t had time to really get used to the feel. James had only made a face before trying it on. And it was far more intimidating than the mask he’d worn when they first bumped into him six months ago. 

“Gimme a few minutes to get us into position, then you can let them in.” _Oh shit, Parker driving._ Both he and Hardison grabbed for something as she peeled out of the parking lot. 

James, the bastard, just chuckled and moved ahead to crouch behind the driver’s seat to give her directions. Something of how loose his body was suggested that he’d had worse drivers than this. Eliot suddenly blessed his lucky stars that he’d only brushed against Hydra in his youth. 

The warehouse was only a few streets over, so Parker made it within just one minute. “Okay Hardison, mark.” 

“Going live in three, two…” Hardison held his breath, then started muttering. “Seriously, there is no way this is just Cloverfield. Not after that boat.” 

“And that’s why we’re going in as pairs,” Eliot growled. “James, you stick with Parker. Hardison, you’re with me.” Stick to the script. This was all about timing here. 

James growled out his script right on time. He was really getting the hang of this. “And Parker, remember the words.” 

“I do, James. I will. Now let’s go get Annie and her sister.” She parked the van, killing the engine even as Hardison did his thing. 

No one else spoke as they hopped out of the car and split into two groups. They didn’t need to. 

~ ~ ~ ~ 

 

Parker followed James in through the upper windows on the third floor. He led the way with his little Skorpion, backpack filled with ammo and other reserves, while hers was full of ropes and spare harness bits she never left behind. She’d been saved more times than she could count by having replacement bits. 

It was dark, and seemed to be empty. They’d entered into an office section, but no one had worked here in those fifteen years Hardison had mentioned. “We’re in, so far, no one up here.” James held up a hand, taking a moment to use the infrared in his goggles to survey the floor. Then he held up three fingers before pointing to their left, followed by two fingers and pointing to their right. So five people. “Correction, but this won’t take long.” She tapped his shoulder, then pointed to herself and then right. He nodded.

Eliot had tried to explain to her years ago why her love for tasering people was unsettling, but really, was it any worse than how he punched out people all the time? Tasers were faster too. She had her two down and tied up before James had finished disarming his three. She found the earpiece one had been wearing, then gave it up for the handheld radio the other one had. Earwax, ew. 

James met her in the hallway, circling around to see if anyone else was up there. She held up her radio, then listened to it as other people spoke to each other in Russian. She cocked her head at him. His face wasn’t visible, but his shoulders shifted and she felt that he smiled, drawing a circle in the air before making a fist. No one else up here. The turquoise beads had flipped out from under his hair and she took a moment to tuck them back under. 

The plans they had found marked these offices with a short corridor leading out to the main warehouse floor. So far, the plans had been mostly correct. When they corridor led to the broken door, she slipped through first to grease the hinges so he could come out with no sound. Across from them, there was a platform where the heavy cranes had been operated from. She took a moment to judge the distance, then shot a rappel hook across, in case they needed it later.

James was watching the floor. Eliot and Hardison were to come in across from them on the ground floor. They’d chosen to go silent, just in case their comms were caught by whatever anti-surveillance equipment this group was using. Except now Parker was supposed to say something. James was poking her in the ribs to remind her. “Shit! Russians!” she hissed. 

The five guys they’d knocked out were just average muscle. The squad down on the main floor… were not. She counted six people in a circle around the center, guns ready, with another six patrolling around, moving loose and easy. Three more were next to a large platform. It looked familiar for a moment, then she realized. It was the chair and the machine James had described to them. “It’s here.” 

“Crap,” Eliot hissed. Parker had her hand on James’ right elbow, trying hard to keep her stomach from revolting. “We’re blowing that thing up then.” 

“Fuck yeah we are,” Hardison said. “I just want to have a moment with it first, download whatever programs they have loaded on it. It’ll help us figure things out.” 

“Then we blow it to hell,” James growled. 

“In teeny tiny pieces,” Parker promised him. 

“OK, we’re in, but have you guys seen them yet? Uhm, any of them?” Hardison asked.

James tapped her shoulder, then pointed down. “We’re going to look on the second floor on our side. Stay off the main floor and check the docks on your side?” she suggested. Then followed her friend down the stairs. 

~ ~ ~ ~

Hardison kinda hated this plan. He wished they had gone in through the roof, all four of them. Ground floor was way too close, even if he had Eliot at his side like so many times before. “You know, we’ve been in some seriously bad spots before, but this is the one that really squicks me out.” 

“Ready to give it all up and go straight?” Eliot asked, turning to look at him over his shoulder. The mask covered his face completely, even his eyebrows. The only identification he could find was the thin unadorned braid tucked in behind his right ear. Otherwise, he was the Winter Soldier.

“Nah, but I would like to get this over with and get the fuck outta here,” Hardison replied. Then he ducked into a corner, dragging Eliot with him as one of the patrolling guards came closer. His computer vibrated a little against his ribs, but he waited until the footsteps receded and Eliot stopped squashing him to pull it out. He didn’t read the screen, but he did flip it around to show Eliot. They had maybe ten minutes to find Annie and Alice and get them out before Shield lit the place up. 

Eliot nodded, then tapped his goggles to look up through the ceiling. He pointed, turning in a circle, then back at the corner. This side of the warehouse also had rooms on the second floor. It had been some sort of re-staging zone for incoming containers to be broken down and send to individual buyers. Which meant a lot of reconfiguration at will, probably. It was either offices or employee break rooms or locker rooms above them. If they were keeping the girls there, most likely a break room, for the space and the amenities. 

He tapped Eliot on the shoulder twice, then pointed into the dark where a stairwell should be. The night vision in the goggles must have been better than he thought, because Eliot went straight for them, leading Hardison into the belly of the building. 

They drew to a halt halfway up the stairs. Eliot raised his hand again and drew a circle, then flexed all five fingers out twice. Ten guards. He held his fist silent, then held up two fingers before inverting them. Two hostages. “Guys, we found them. Either Vassiliev is here with them, or he’s on your side,” Hardison whispered, tucking his notebook back inside his jacket. Then he pulled out the little weapon they’d stolen from the Shield jet. He’d had so much fun learning how to shoot a Night-Night gun. 

“Yeah, I think we just found him. Get them out, we’ll run distraction like we planned. And Hardison? Make me proud.” He could hear the love in Parker’s voice, and he grinned as he followed Eliot up the stairs. 

~ ~ ~ ~

“They need a distraction,” Parker murmured as she followed James through the second floor offices. These were executives, just like the floor above but bigger. The boss had probably been on this level. 

James stopped and held up his hand again, pointing down the corridor before holding up three fingers. Then he wrapped the strap of his gun around his forearm tighter. Parker pulled out her taser and grabbed onto the strap across his back. The moment he felt that, he charged forward, going through three office doors like a tank. She let go at the last one to peek around his shoulder. He didn’t stop.

There were just three people in the room. One was Jared Hinkerson, pale as a ghost and if Parker listened to him, she thought the CEO might have been whimpering. 

The second was a woman. She had long strawberry blond hair, tied back neatly at the nape of her neck. And she wore combat gear, almost like what Shield agents wore, but her shoulder bore an octopus. Hardison had tried to explain the icon to her, but whatever. Octopus, Hydra, creepy beasts of assholatry. Parker didn’t really care. The woman wasn’t holding a weapon, just merely sitting on the edge of a desk, watching the third person in the room. 

He was huge. Bigger than James, bigger than Captain America or Thor, even. Vassiliev, James said they called him. Son of some hockey player from the sixties, and he had been strong before the serum. Now he was…

Turning towards James and grinning. The Russian’s hair was the antithesis of James’. White blond and cut short to thrust up into a point above his forehead. And when he grinned, Parker finally saw the danger. 

“Don’t break him too much, Vassiliev,” the woman said. “Take him downstairs so we can start the reclamation.” 

The giant muttered something in Russian. James merely snorted. 

“Uh, Hardison, we need the comms back now,” Parker muttered. 

James and Vassiliev moved at the same time. Two tanks charging forward to crash against each other in the center of the room. Across the warehouse, lights were flashing in the center room of the second floor. The woman just laughed, watching with unashamed delight, right before she started shouting words in Russian. Command words. _Winter Soldier words._

“I’m a little busy Parker!” Hardison’s voice had gone up two octaves. James and the Russian were trading punches to the gut, even as James twitched at the words. He tried to pull Vassiliev away from the woman and her command words, when something flew out of the second floor on Hardison’s and Eliot’s side. It was more than enough to catch the attention of the guards downstairs. 

“Fine, I’ll do it.” She pulled out her cell phone and keyed in the code, and a soft buzzing sound flooded her ears. It was even louder in the Hydra ears because they were yelling and slapping their comms off their head, even the other woman in the room pushed forward towards James. That’s when Parker charged across the room, sliding under James to stop next to the desk. “Hi. Marissa Pierce, right? You really fucked up,” she said, slamming both her tasers into the woman’s calf. 

The woman convulsed and fell down to the floor beside Parker. Hinkerson took one last look, then ran out a back door to somewhere. Parker didn’t care, they’d get him later. She looked up at James, just in time to see him and the Russian go flying out their window onto the main warehouse floor. “Shit!” 

~ ~ ~ ~ 

“Crap, we lost their comms again. Come on, Skye, you said you could handle this!” Clint Barton piloted while he listened to Maria Hill panic. Really, this was kind of fun. The quinjet was setting down easily on the roof of the warehouse, and there weren’t even any guards to shoot. 

“You know, I had a feeling we were missing something,” Sam Wilson muttered from behind him. “What if they’ve been playing us the whole time?” 

“Aww Sam, I thought you were a great guy. Why you have to be so negative?” Clint asked, unbuckling and swiveling around to grab his gear. Actually, it was a valid point. Wouldn’t have been the first time. He looked up at Hill, arching an eyebrow at her.

“Just get in there and get things under control,” she growled, taking a seat next to Coulson’s wiz kid to bang at keys. 

“Yes ma’am,” Clint said jauntily, trotting out the back of the jet with Sam beside him. “Thanks to them, the third floor should be empty, that’s where I’ll go in.” 

“And I’ll make the big entrance at the front door, I know. At least this place is big enough for the wings,” Falcon replied, tugging his goggles down before dropping off the side of the building. Showoff. 

Clint made quick work of getting inside too. From the third floor window, he could see the giant doors easily to plant a couple detonation arrows to help Sam’s entrance. Then he stopped and looked at the warehouse floor. “Hey, this show’s almost as good as Steve and Thor sparring!”

“BARTON!” Jeez, Hill really was not having a good night. 

~ ~ ~ ~ 

Hardison was untying Annie and Alice from their chairs when James and the Russian crashed through the window across from them. Alice had a few choice words for that, and he had to agree, that was fucked up. And she didn’t even know the half of it. 

Eliot slid through the bodies to his open window, laying down cover fire for James brawling across the warehouse floor. More like, destroying it. This Vassiliev was huge, maybe bigger than Thor. James was staying with him every step of the way, metal arm shining in the lights as he pounded down onto the Russian. But the fight was moving away from the machine. Away from them too, since the command computers were just below him. The whine in his ears was becoming bearable, like he had planned. Enough that it didn’t distract him as he dropped a digital spyder of his own design down onto the desk below.

It landed with a soft thump, then spread out four spindly legs. Then it ran for the nearest dataport and plugged in his virus. Hardison pulled out his netbook to check, and he had to laugh with satisfaction to see all the information cloning itself to his private servers. The last action the spyder took was to unplug itself and scuttle off into the dark before running its self-destruct. “Got it. Everything we need about that abomination.” 

“All right, so let’s finish this. I heard Shield land just a minute ago,” Parker replied. “Pierce is down for the moment. I tasered her good.” She laughed, a little too pleased with herself.

Eliot paused in his shooting to point to the third floor above Parker. A guy with a bow stood there, watching the brawl downstairs. He only spared a few moments to identify him as Hawkeye, mostly because the main hangar door blew open with a very loud rumble. A guy with bonafide wings, the Falcon, flew in and pulled up to land with the machine to his back, taking out the last few guards that Eliot hadn’t dropped. 

“Stop!” Pierce yelled from across the warehouse, already on the intercom again. Parker was already descending on a rope to run towards James. A harsh Russian word rang out across the floor, stopping the brawl mid punch. James was down, with the Russian poised over him. This was where Plan AV got really muddled. Someone else did know the right words after all.

~ ~ ~ ~

It was kind of disappointing to fly in and only get to take out only a few guys. Sam knew that he didn’t always get to make the grand entrances, so when he did, he liked to make them count. This wasn’t one that counted.

“Stop!” A woman yelled across the intercom. Then a harsh Russian word filled the warehouse, and both the fighters stopped. It gave Sam the chance to really look at the two men fighting, and the smaller one was the Winter Soldier. Down to the face mask and bare metal arm. Steve was going to be so pissed at them. 

A second Russian word sounded, making both fighters pull apart and stand at attention, despite the obvious wounds both had inflicted on the other. They were trying to take the Winter Soldier back. Sam really did not want to be the one to explain this to Steve. He also didn’t know if he’d be able to fight off two of them. Even with Barton and his bow up above him.

Before he could take aim, a blond woman slipped from the shadows to run over to the fighters. The Russian ignored her, but she yelled something at the Winter Soldier. He twitched his head side to side as she continued to yell words at him. One of them sounded familiar, and his stomach dropped. Steve’s worst nightmare had been right. Bucky had a new Handler. 

Once she was done, he heard a soft Russian reply. Even more frightening was the woman on the intercom screaming commands. The second Soldier, the giant blond on was turning to face Barnes and the woman. “Bring her down here,” the blond said before turning to mutter another set of phrases at the giant about to hit them. The giant froze, but the first Soldier took aim to shoot at the second hand floor. A woman screamed and jumped from the window, catching the rope dangling from it to slide to the main floor. At the same time, a shot rang out over Sam’s head and caught the woman mid leap and she dropped to the concrete, boneless. Above her, Barton was flying himself across on another rope, right into the waiting arms of… The Winter Soldier?

Sam stared above him, gawking at the masked man looking down at him, holding a familiar little Skorpion automatic at him. “Fuck, there’s TWO! Which one is which?” 

~ ~ ~ ~

“Are you sure he’s frozen?” Parker stared at the Russian fighter. Blood dripped from the guy’s forehead. Evidently it had gone through the side of one of the containers. More blood ran down his arm and chest. 

“Yes,” Eliot whispered. His voice was weak and shaky, but it was him. “Can we be done now?” 

“Yeah. Hardison, you two keep Barton up there? Apologize to Annie and Alice for us.” She put a hand on her Soldier’s arm, leading him forward to the platform where the machine waited. “No wait, what’s this guy’s words again?” 

“Just tell him to follow,” he said quietly. His shoulders were squared, but he had rips and blood on his uniform. He was also holding the metal arm close to his body. However, the mask had not slipped, nor had the turquoise bead come loose. 

“Hey, you, Vassiliev. Come with us.” She couldn’t really be angry at him. Wasn’t his fault he was made into a machine, any more than it had been James’. But James had been coerced. This guy, according to James and the records they’d uncovered, he had volunteered. 

They stopped at the edge of the platform. Neither soldier would go any further, not without a direct order, and she didn’t blame them. A half second later, there was another voice on the intercom, reporting that the site was secure from Hydra. Parker looked up at Sam with the Wings, trying for her most trustworthy smile. “Uh, Thanks, I think? For not bringing Captain America?” she said. 

Sam with the Wings turned to aim both of his little pistol guns, so much like James’ Skorpion, at her. She held up both hands, and grinned. “I come with a peace offering!” 

Beside her, the Winter Soldier reached up to pull off his goggles and mask with his right hand before flicking his sweaty hair back, revealing to everyone that it wasn’t James, but Eliot. Bloody, battered, and smirking. “Hey, how ya doin?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay yeah. I played a bait and switch on you. *ducks* For the record, the Leverage crew did it several times before, most notably in the very first episode, and the very last episode. I'll make it up to you next week, I promise!!! It's the post that makes this one and the last one make sense, which means it's frickin huge too. That's the only reason I didn't post them together.
> 
> Good news though? Finished the last chapter of Part 2 this past week and got started on Part 3! Muahahahahah.
> 
> Parker's uh, driving skills, are mentioned several times through the series. She states she was a getaway driver at age 12 before she became a car thief in the Boost Job, S3E8, but the best reaction from Eliot and Hardison was in S5E10, the Rundown Job.


	6. Pay No Attention To The Man Behind The Curtain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick note, I marked days, but they jump back and forth a bit in the timeline.

Below them, Eliot took off his mask and grinned at the familiar man wearing the wing pack. James’ stomach had turned a little when that one had come flying in. Evidently the fall from the Helicarrier hadn’t seemed to have hurt him too much? 

Beside him, the man with the bow tensed, fingering some sort of command on the handle. “Parker, can we stop the interference now? My head is splitting and I still can’t hear shit.” 

“I got you, don’t worry man.” Hardison had his netbook out again, then the loud buzzing died instantly. 

“Thank you,” James murmured, reaching up to remove his mask and tuck it away into a coat pocket. He felt shy as he turned to smile at the archer behind him. Kind of cute, if you were looking. 

_Oh wait, was he? Dammit body, couldn’t you wait until a better time?_ “Hey, James Grant. Nice ta meechya.” He tentatively held out his right hand to the archer. 

“Yeah, not a hand shaking kind of guy. But uh, thanks for the catch?” James brought his hand back, rubbing at his hip nervously. “Clint Barton.” Clint seemed to have decided something and put his bow away. 

“No problem. Thanks for following the script,” Hardison said behind him, smirking his usual way. “Can we go downstairs and join them?” 

“James? What kind of trouble did you get into?” Annie asked behind him. Then she took a deep breath and hardened her voice. “And where is my Stevie!”

He turned away from the stranger and turned to her, holding out a hand. “Stevie’s safe, he’s with DA. There were three guys that came to kidnap him, but I kept him safe.” He tried for a hopeful smile. “Hardison’s got a tracker on him and DA so we can go find them.” 

She sobbed only once, clinging to Alice. This was the first time he got to take a good look at her sister. She looked almost exactly like Annie, but where their client was drawn skin over hard bone, Alice was… very buxom, very made up and very… under-dressed. And glaring at him. “This is my fault though. I’m not exactly…” He couldn’t think of the right words.

“Too many people know about him,” Hardison chimed in. “We didn’t mean to get you caught up in this, I promise. That’s why we made sure we had back up.” Hardison smirked at the Barton guy. James had a hard time not laughing at the groan that came from the man.

“You fucking set us up? Dude, where’s the respect?” Archer rubbed at his face, sighing heavily.

“The respect was that you would do your part, whether you knew it or not,” James said softly. 

“Would someone tell me what the hell is going on here?” There was a woman walking up to the platform where Sam was staring at Parker and Eliot. Her dark hair pulled back into a tight bun and she walked with authority. His best guess: Maria Hill. Agents followed her in to start sorting and taking all the unconscious fighters into custody.

“Okay, let’s go down there, talk this over, then we’ll get Annie and Alice home to Stevie and tomorrow, figure out what happens next, yeah?” Hardison’s voice was soft, supportive. James didn’t want to get any closer to the damn machine and they all knew it. But he nodded, pointing towards the stairs for the women. Hawkeye just dropped out of the broken window onto the platform behind Sam. 

James took the stairs, with the other three behind him. Alice was still glaring daggers into the back of his neck, he could tell. But Annie stayed close, especially when James offered her a hand as they picked their way through the rubble around to Eliot and Parker. 

“Who wants to start?” the Hill woman snarled. She seemed the type to order extra punishments if she had been in charge of the Soldier Program.

“Me,” Parker said. “This all started last month when Hardison caught you slipping into our computer systems.” 

 

**August 31rst, T-19 days until the reveal.**

The new offices were an improvement over the last, Hardison had to admit. Moving had given him the excuse to upgrade a lot of his equipment, which meant he was in heaven. Plus Seattle had a pretty strong trunk line for internet access. The little restaurant they’d chosen sat right on top of it too. Child’s play to tap directly into it.

“Dammit Parker, I don’t think you’re listening. You can’t just taser people when you get mad at them!” Eliot was yelling in the background, even as they tested the upgraded voltage of the guns.

“Oh, but it’s fine just punching them? People get concussions that way,” Parker spat back.

“I’d rather Parker be able to taser people, especially if they come for me,” James said softly, effectively ending the argument. “Both of you, actually.” The guy was more subdued than usual, and it was early in the day. All the signs pointed to another nightmare. James was getting better at dealing how he felt after a bad one, but they still affected him. 

Hardison started to say something when his warning system blinked at him. He turned to follow it, then rolled his eyes and redirected it into the digital sandbox. “Hey, you guys done? I’ve got another Shield virus trying to break in.” 

“We’re really going to have to do something about them,” Parker said, sighing as she came to sit at the briefing table. It was 3D now, thanks to Hardison’s ability to recreate the tablet hardware from the ones he’d stolen from Shield in the first place. That had been a lot of fun to do.

“They’re not going to stop,” James said, his shoulders slumping and his voice dropping an octave again. 

“What if we let them in?” Parker asked, looking between the three men. “If they think they can run spy surveillance on us, then they’ll be useful, if Hydra figures out where James is.” 

“You want to run game on Shield,” Eliot stated. He took a deep breath to counter argue, then the hitter stopped before he started. “You know, we could do that again. But these guys, they’re not Dubenich or Interpol. We’re gonna have to let them in even deeper to control what they see and let them think they’re getting away with stuff.” James frowned at him and Hardison wondered exactly how much the other two had shared of their history, cause Hardison couldn’t remember telling those stories.

“That would require two levels of comms, two levels of encryption, of everything,” he muttered. It might even be fun, to see if he could keep it all running. 

“It’s my fault. I should let them… you know.” James waved his hand in the air before hunching up over the table.

“No.” Parker’s voice was firm, even as she punched James in the softer of his two arms. “You’re family now. And we don’t let family take the fall.” 

“I’ve already had a few Hydra sniffers try to get in. It’s only a matter of time. And there are still the other Soldiers out there.” Hardison pointed out. Then inspiration struck. “You said there was one more, another guy they liked to use a lot, like you. Vassie something,” he said, waving his hand before digging for the files.

“Vassiliev. And if he comes, he’s going to wreck everything here.” It wasn’t a good day for James. Whatever his nightmare had been about last night, it must have been on the Asset level, by the way he refused to look back up. The three of them had agreed about this though. They wouldn’t let him wallow.

“So yeah. Once we start working again, you’re going to be visible. Hydra’s going to come knocking, and maybe they’ll bring this Vassiliev and the machine with them. If we get Shield thinking that they’ve finally broken into my security, we could use that to lure them in at the right time. Vassiliev and his handler appear, BAM! We’ll drop Shield on their heads. And if Shield does get their hands on the machine, then THEY can figure out how it works and maybe help us figure out how to undo more of your programming.” 

Parker’s eyes were wide. Eliot was thoughtful, but James still wasn’t looking up. “The machine only works if there’s someone to put in it,” he muttered.

“Simple,” Parker said. “We’ll just steal Vassiliev along with the machine!” 

 

**September 2, T-17 Days**

Steve watched the footage Hill had on her screen with his heart in his throat. James, working through sparring techniques with his friend. He had names for those friends now. Eliot Spencer was the fighter on the screen. Alec Hardison had been the hacker who’d held them out for so long. And someone called Parker. Just Parker. And James… _James GRANT._ To know that James had taken his name, that threatened to pull his knees apart. It did steal the breath from his lungs and almost stopped his heart.

“How, when? This is,” Steve swallowed hard, leaning in a little more. “This is incredible.” 

“How is Coulson’s little genius, Skye. When, was this morning. We’d been trying to slip into their encryption for weeks now,” Hill replied. “Skye finally solved the riddle that’s Hardison and snuck in. She’s pretty certain that he won’t be able to catch her, or kick her out. We’ve got it all, their comms, security feed, and a direct line into their server mainframe.” She paused, then reluctantly added, “This guy’s good.” 

“Yeah. He was able to kick both Jarvis and Ultron out before. Skye better be sneaky about it.” On the screen, James backed up a couple steps, saying something before the two men began the spar session again. He moved so easily, much better than he remembered in DC.

“I’d like to send a team out to retrieve him,” Hill said. Steve froze, looking up at her angrily. “I know what you’re going to say Rogers, but Hydra hasn’t stopped looking for him. It’s safe here.” 

“No it’s not,” he replied. “And those friends of his will come after him. They’re damned good at what they do and I doubt any of us would be able to stop them, because it’s not something WE do. Why can’t we just keep him under observation?” Every conversation he’d had with James had been the same. He was terrified of turning himself in to Shield, or to Steve directly.

“Steve, I know how you feel about him. But he’s a liability out there. You don’t leave weapons on the street for anyone to pick up.” 

He was on his feet before he realized how much her words made his blood boil. “He’s not a weapon, he’s a person, just like you or me. And if you think about taking him down, I’ll walk out of here and call James myself to tell him to run. I didn’t work this hard to get his trust just so you could destroy it.” 

“Rogers. You’re getting too emotional about this,” Hill replied. She had shifted in her seat though. Natasha had been teaching him how to read body language, and he knew he had her nervous.

“Damn right I’m emotional about this. James hasn’t hurt anyone, and he hasn’t killed anyone in the past year. He’s safe, and that crew of his helps people. You were the one who showed me the Portland files on them. Can’t you just… let him live for a while?” The urge to drop the shield and the mantle grew every day. He’d never quit, he knew that. At least he could try to get that kind of life for James. “You bring him here, you’ll eventually try to put him to work, you know that. And it’d be the worst thing ever, because he’ll do it. And hate it.” 

Maria stared at him for a long while, face still as she debated with herself. After three silent minutes, she offered one word. “Compromise?” 

“Maybe. What did you have in mind?” Steve crossed his arms, staring back at her.

“We keep him under surveillance. I want at least one person out there who can take him into custody,” she raised a hand before he could protest, “IF we have to. Preferably two people. With Coulson’s team as back up.” 

“Fine, but one of those people better be Sam. He’s already got a built in cover.” That was kind of a low blow, since Sam had been out with Hill a few times since the Ultron mess. She might not be happy with him.

“Agreed. I’d like to send Clint with him. He doesn’t get bored easily. And he already works good with Sam.” Or maybe not. Hill kept her own council. 

“Okay. And I want to see every bit of surveillance you get on them. I’ll even let you listen in on our phone calls so you can be sure I don’t tip him off.” Concessions for James’ safety were worth it. Even if he hated giving up the privacy. 

“I know this isn’t easy, Steve. I really just want to keep the guy safe too. Who knows who else might be out there,” Hill said softly. I’m keeping this on a need to know level. You, Sam, Clint, Skye, Coulson, and me. I’m pretty certain none of us have divided loyalties.” 

“Thank you Maria.” Steve took a deep breath before stepping back. 

It wasn’t until later that night, when he watched the video feed of James playing with the cat, Steve could finally admit the truth to himself. He was greedy for anything about James. He wanted to see who his friend was now, and maybe… figure out a way past all of James’ fears. 

 

**August 31, T-19 days**

Eliot found James out in the garden behind the restaurant. Malaya was chasing beetles under the zucchini leaves, but James wasn’t watching. He was sitting on the bench in the back under the grape arbor, feet up so he could wrap his arms around his knees while staring at nothing. All four of them spent time under there, for one reason or another. He was thinking he might need to put a carving or prisms up there for something to actually look at.

James didn’t say anything when Eliot sat down at his feet, but he also didn’t move away. “You’re not a fan of this plan, I know. What if I told you I had an idea?” 

“I don’t want to fight anymore.” James voice was soft, but intense. His eyes were too far away, but not quite to the disassociating point. 

Eliot took a chance and squeezed the top of James’ sneaker. Touch was still an iffy thing. “That’s what my idea is about. We do a variation of the shell game.”

“The shell game?” James frowned, but he was coming back to focus in on Eliot. “I remember something about that, being cheated.” 

“Yeah, that’s the basis.” Eliot squeezes James’ foot again, then let go. “I have a secret to share with you, if you’ll let me.” 

“How come I feel like I’m the only one who doesn’t have secrets around here?” James muttered, but he pulled his foot away and sat up straighter. Much more in this world and not disassociating. 

“Probably because Hydra kept good records on you, dunno.” That earned him an eye roll. “Anyways, my secret, is kind of along those lines.” He shifted in closer, dropping his voice. You never knew where Parker was, even if you did know she was watching a horror movie with Hardison. “When you were in San Lorenzo, they kept packets of serum on hand, in case you needed a quick dose.” Eliot let him think on that for a second. “I stole one.” 

James jerked back, understanding dawning on his face. “And that’s why you’re as good as you are?” 

“Fuck no, that’s why I can keep going when I have to. I’m good because,” Eliot shrugged. “I don’t let myself get rusty. I keep myself sharp.” He tapped two fingers on the bench between them. “But this also means, you and me? We dress alike, complete with that scary mask they put you in, they won’t be able to tell us apart, and you won’t have to fight.” 

James drew back a little. He was thinking. Eliot knew him well enough now to almost hear the tumblers in his head as he worked through the problem. “I couldn’t ask you to do that. You’ll get seriously hurt against Vassiliev. I still heal better than you.” 

“Yeah, but with Parker’s plan to keep Shield close but dumb, I only have to last a few minutes. And it took you almost thirty seconds to put me down that first time.” Eliot knew better than to try and jolly James along. 

After a minute, James offered “Vassiliev is bigger, stronger, but slower. He likes to hurt people.” 

“Then it’s better that Shield has him under control. And if we can get one more machine out of their hands, even better.” James flinched, looking away. “I think Parker was right. If they think they’ll be able to grab you, they’ll bring it. They’ll want to wipe you as soon as possible, make you more pliable. Make sure you comply.” Eliot sat up a little more, putting more than his usual growl into his promise. “We won’t let that happen.” 

“You better not.” James sighed, then offered his right hand. When Eliot shook it, he even squeezed a little. “There’s so much that could go wrong with this plan.”

“So we better make sure we know everything we can, first. And let’s start by you showing me what you remember about Vassiliev’s moves.” 

 

**September 5, T- 14, the day in the park**

“Now, we need to start working,” Hardison said, spreading out papers between the four of them on the grass. “I’ve already lined up a few potential clients in town, and I’d like to start with this one. This is how I think it’ll go.” Hardison spread out pages, explaining the con and how it would work with their new business plan. “All of these have some sort of link to Hydra, Pierce, or Gideon Malick, mostly financial. But this one, Cloverfield? They’re a nasty piece of work.” 

“What makes them stand out?” Eliot asked. He was reading through the pages, but keeping Hardison talking was also keeping Hardison happy.

“Pages four and five. They were a construction and real estate place, but now they’re mostly in the poverty business. Couple of their apartment complexes though, used to be dormitory fronts for Hydra. Still seem to have an arrangement with Marissa Pierce.” 

Hardison was kind enough not to jerk his eyes towards James at that name. Parker, not so kind. But Hardison could see her hand slipping over into James to keep him from clutching the kitten too tightly. Malaya just busied herself with shredding the paper covering her. 

“Yes, the daughter of that Pierce. Seems she takes after dad.” Hardison paused, and now he looked up at Eliot and James both. “I’ve done a lot of research this week. My best guess, she’s Vassiliev’s handler. I think Cloverfield will be the fastest way to shake them out of the mist.” 

Eliot and James exchanged a glance. That pair had been keeping their heads together for three days. “Okay,” James said simply, nodding to Eliot.

THAT one just grinned and pulled out a blue print. “Hardison, I got a project for you. We’re gonna do a shell game.” 

 

**September 12, T- 7**

“I really appreciate you going out there, Sam. I know it’s not what you wanted.” Steve was watching a recorded video of James in the little lab the team had set up, trying to build something with a potato? He didn’t understand that. The orange cat sat on James’ shoulder, riding easily no matter how the man moved. 

“Yeah, well, it’s always nice to get a vacation. And honestly, this is the easiest gig I’ve ever done.” Sam was in his ear, scoping out the restaurant that James’ crew had set up in. “I’m eating something called Pici Pasta with mussels and oysters and it’s so fucking good. I mean, better than what Stark gets in his tower kind of good!” 

Steve laughed, shaking his head as Sam went on. “And the lamb I had last night was just amazing. Really, thank you for sending me here. I’m gonna gain twenty pounds, easy.” 

“I hope you’re letting Clint have a turn now and then too.” James was putting wires into the potato on his screen. Next to the potato, a clock started blinking 12:00. It was hard not to laugh as James caught the cat to kiss the side of her head in triumph.

“Oh yeah, he’s already complaining about not being sophisticated enough to eat more than a burger here.” A pause while Sam took a bite. “Doesn’t stop him.” 

“Never get between Clint and food he doesn’t have to cook or pay for. I learned that a long time ago.” Steve paused, then hates himself even as he asks. “Have you seen him?” 

Sam knew exactly which him he was talking about, but he kept it subtle. Voices in the background were louder now. “Clint? No, he’s being a ghost. We’re in the same hotel, on the same floor and I never see the guy. I think he’s still pissed at me.” Clint was pissed at Sam? Or… Sam said Clint when he meant James. 

“Or he just can’t face you yet,” Steve said softly.

“Maybe. I’ll just keep my hands off his boyfriend from now on, I promise.” 

~ ~ ~ ~

“The guy’s got good taste,” Eliot said with a grin. 

“And it’s not like you’re showing off or anything,” Parker teased. They were both watching James though. He was leaning against the wall, watching Sam through the skylights, folded in on himself, listening to the same thing they were. 

They both fell silent when he pushed away from the wall to head for one of the dead zones, staying out of camera range. Eliot started to follow, but Parker just patted his arm and followed James into the dark.

 

**September 18 T-1 day, late evening**

Steve hung up after talking to James. He knew exactly where they were, and the con that they were running, thanks to Skye and Fitz both keeping track of things. They’d also dug a few more files out of Hardison’s database. So far, only the two kids, Hill, and himself had read through it, and he thought maybe only Hill knew the significance of it. 

He’d barely slept before the call, and now he was way too wound up to even think about sleeping. It was always hard to sleep when he was at Tony’s tower. He still felt wrung out from the conversation. But he clung to those words like a promise, “family always comes home.” It had been the closest thing James had ever said about coming back to Steve. 

He held onto that, even as he washed his face and got dressed again. He paused, staring at the folder before grabbing it and heading down to Tony’s lab. Pepper had said Tony had slept in the past 24 hours. Better to get it over with now. 

Steve’s luck was riding with him. Tony was actually working on the cryo schematics that they’d “retrieved” from Hardison’s database. As well as the memory machine. Hill had slipped it in as part of the ongoing surveillance. Steve knocked quietly on the open door, sticking his head in first. “Is it safe?” 

“WhatohyeahheySteve!” All that came out in a single word but Tony was smiling and waving at him to come in. “This… this is really fucked up. Where did you _find_ this?” 

Steve came in to sit across the hologram table from Tony, staring through the blue schematics of the tank. “Hacker I became acquainted with, he managed to fish it up out of the data storm Natasha dropped last year.” Once they had the plans, all the broken equipment in the Bank made more sense. And indirectly explained who had broken it. 

“And your friend, your guy Bucky, this is what made him the Winter Soldier?” Steve slowly realized that Tony was watching HIM carefully for any emotional reactions.

“That, and Zola’s serum experiments. They made him a weapon that could walk and talk and maintain itself.” Steve felt himself crumbling inward again, just like he did any time he had to talk about James’ experiences. 

“Him, and what, almost a dozen others?” Tony fell silent for a second, then blurted, “It makes me want to throw up and I didn’t even know any of them. Have you been able to find him at all, since this?” 

“Sort of. He hired that hacker I mentioned. We’ve talked on the phone a few times. It’s… hard.” Steve decided not to mention how many times he’d been physically ill, thinking about this. 

“This is the guy who hacked into Jarvis, right? Before I created a psycho apocalypse robot.” Tony’s tone of voice was wry, but Steve didn’t let it fool him. It’d be a while before Tony eased up on himself about Ultron.

“Yeah. Let me show you something though.” Steve reached forward and tapped in his pass code, pulling up the news feed of James fighting off a couple of the bots. “He was strong enough to do that for us.” 

“For us? Or for you?” Now Tony was starting to fidget. If Natasha was here, she would be going on alert, Steve thought.

“For us. If he had turned, or let Ultron turn him, he would have taken out half the team before we even knew he was there.” 

“Is that,” Tony was shifting, waving his usual screwdriver in the air to punctuate his words. “You know, one of those things, you two talk about? Tell me, what else do you talk about?” 

Steve set his jaw, knowing Tony was needling him as he worked up to something. “Random things. Usually stuff from before, how we’re both doing now. At first I thought he’d remember everything and come back, but that’s not happening. He’s afraid.” Steve paused, then added, “I think he’s afraid he might revert back, without being able to control it.” 

“Well, he was very good at what he did. Killed a lot of people and got away with it.” A list flashed up onto the display, a copy of the exact one in his folder. “Including my parents, it seems.” Now Tony was getting to the point. 

“I know.” Steve held up the folder in his hand, then dropped it through the 3D display. “That’s what I was coming to talk to you about. Plus, all this other stuff about that abomination machine.” 

“How long did you know?” The vein on Tony’s forehead kept getting larger, but Steve didn’t rise to the words.

“For certain? About two hours. Guessed?” He sighed, leaning back in the chair. “Last year, when all this came out.” 

“And you decided, what? I couldn’t handle it?” 

“Tony, you were a mess. So was I. All of us were. Bruce still hasn’t come back to us after that. I didn’t want to burn you even more, not until we both had space, and I had proof.” 

“Well, now you do. And it seems your Bucky gave it to you.” The screwdriver went flying as Tony stood up. Dum-E, like the faithful bot he was, went rolling after it.

“Not directly. I didn’t know they’d made a list.” He paused for a second, then dropped his voice. “I hate it, Tony. Howard was my friend too. And your mother, Maria, she was an incredible woman who loved with you both. None of them deserved what happened.” 

“Does he remember?” Tony’s voice was starting to crack. Steve still knew this could go one of two ways; rage, or despair. Tony didn’t have a halfway point.

“I think he does. He tells me about his nightmares, sometimes. How everyone waits for him in the dreams.” Tony looked away, finally, turning to take the screwdriver back from Dum-E. “He hates it. What they made him, what he’s become. He keeps telling me that he’s dead, that Bucky Barnes is dead. But he’s not the only one. The Winter Soldier is dead. He’s dead and so are the people who made him, who ordered him after your parents, after Peggy, after Bruce too. They’re all dead. He killed them all. Now he’s just trying to piece together what’s left for him.” 

Relief made his knees go weak when Tony deflated. He didn’t just deflate, but dropped down onto the floor to sit with his back against the table. Steve carefully walked around and sat down beside him. After a moment, he held an arm out, offering his support silently. Tony shifted over to him. It was strange, actually, the way he clung to Steve while he shook through the reaction of his words. Tony didn’t do vulnerable well, but with no target left for revenge, all he had left was his grief.

“I wish Bruce were here,” Tony finally said, a long quiet time later. “He’d understand all this a lot better. The biology thing, you know. Did they really send him after Bruce?” 

“Yeah, that’s on the list. It was about uh, the time he broke Harlem. Evidently the Winter Soldier is what triggered that incident.” 

Tony found a way to laugh about that. “Oh now I really wish I could find that footage. That would have been hilarious. Why did they send him?” 

“Because Bruce was working on the serum too. They wanted their own army of Hulks.” Steve shrugged, glad that Bruce hadn’t gone quietly. 

“So was my dad.” Tony waved his free hand in the air, then looked down at the screwdriver in his other. “I’m guessing… that’s why then.” 

“Probably. I’m sorry, Tony. I really am.” 

“Yeah, me too.” The shorter man hopped to his feet, stepping over Steve’s legs to go back to the display, spinning the memory machine around to get a better look at it. “I’m still trying to figure out how this worked. I’m assuming that’s why Clint and Sam are out in Seattle, keeping watch?” 

Steve stared up at Tony for a second, then sighed. “Why do I ever think we could keep you from finding out things?” 

“Please, Steve, you insult me. I built Maria’s system, remember?” The genius cackled, grabbing a bag of dried blueberries before pulling up the surveillance footage. 

“Yeah I know.” He pushed up off the floor, then dusted his ass before going over beside Tony. “So now that we’re agreed you’re all caught up and maybe even okay for the moment, can you explain something to me?”

“Memory shortage or how to woo someone long distance?” The familiar smirk was back on Tony’s face, much to his enjoyment.

Steve rolled his eyes and played with the display until he found the footage of James and his potato clock. “How does that even work?”

 

**September 18 T-1 Day, afternoon.**

“Hey... You got a minute Parker?” James’ voice sounded troubled to Hardison’s ear. So he perked up to pay attention. And it was on the open comm that Shield was listening to.

Parker was already in play for the con on site. “Yep, we’re just waiting for them to realize what I’m up to.” 

“Okay. Uhm, one of the tenants, downstairs, he’s an Army vet too. He ah, he asked me if I wanted to go to one of his meetings at the VA counseling place.” They’d already marked the VA as a danger zone, since Wilson was keeping his cover as a counselor there.

And that’s why James was bringing it up. Hardison turned to his isolation computer, pulling up the tenant inventory for that building, singling out a DA Weber. One quick background check revealed he knew Sam Wilson all right. He was an uncle of Sam’s partner from before, Riley. And DA Weber had a record a mile long of being eyes on the ground for whatever operation was going on, even before he met Sam Wilson. 

Hardison grinned, then texted a simple message to James on the burner phone, not his usual one. “You’re right on the money. DA is related to Wilson’s old flight partner. Great catch.” 

The return text was simple, a bouncing smiley with both thumbs up. Hardison couldn’t be prouder. He’d taught a 99-year-old how to use emojis! 

 

**September 19, or is it the 20th?**

Parker told the story quick, and with more amusement James had ever seen. She thrived on this sort of thing, he realized. And she had zero fear. Despite the fact that he couldn’t come any closer to the platform, and Eliot was starting to lean sideways, even though Hardison was propping him up. All the fight was done for the night.

A second set of Shield people started coming in the broken cargo door. Several of the guns were pointed at him and Eliot, but he refused to raise his hands. Instead he kept his eyes down, watching out of the corner of his eyes and counting the number of people moving around. The floor was very interesting. Actually, the floor was awesome.

“That, is a pretty good story, I’ll admit it. And why did you set us up like this?” Maria Hill had moved down to stand in front of Parker, but it was Eliot who answered her.

“That machine, and him, Vassiliev,” He paused, pointing to the man he’d been fighting, still standing where Parker had ordered him to. “We don’t have the capability to figure out how to reverse engineer what they did to them, the soldiers. You do.” 

“And Marissa Pierce,” Parker added, rubbing Eliot’s arm. All three of the Shield members facing them came back to full alert. The archer, Hawkeye, started scoping the place out all over. 

“You want us to believe that Marissa Pierce was here?” Hill retorted, still staring at Parker. 

“Yup, right over,” and the thief paused, pointing to where the woman had dropped when James shot her with the paralysis round. There was no one there. “Shit!” 

“Parker,” he breathed softly. “We need to go. Now.” The post action fatigue was starting to dissipate, his blood pressure jumping again as adrenaline started to flow faster. If Pierce had been able to shake off the shot and slip out with everyone standing around, she was better than he’d given her credit for.

“Well obviously you don’t have Pierce, so I can’t take your word. And you expect us to take them and leave the four of you here?” 

“The six of us,” James found himself murmuring. Annie’s hand was still tight in his. He was glad for it. Protecting her and Alice gave him focus, a reason not to break and run. He desperately wanted to. Too exposed still. But he had a job to do. 

He finally raised his eyes to look at Hill, just her. “There are six of us who are leaving here,” he repeated.

“And if you want that bird on the roof and the one parked outside to ever fly again, you’re going to let us,” Hardison added. “It’s not like you won’t know where to find us.” 

“You’re not leaving Seattle?” Sam with the wings asked. 

“Naw man, we just got here!” Hardison replied, laughing softly. He tapped a couple graceful fingers across his little computer. Five seconds later, James’ ear bud came alive with Shield chatter about malfunctioning equipment, and two pilots reporting massive system failures. 

“James.” Parker’s voice was soft, but she was looking straight at him. “Why don’t you come get Eliot, then the four of you go get Stevie? We’ll meet back up at home.” 

He nodded, then moved forward a step. James was looking at Eliot, trying to focus on him, but his eyes slid to the chair anyways. He couldn’t take another step forward. Not without knowing where Pierce was. Not without knowing that the machine would stay silent.

Annie squeezed his hand tighter when he didn’t move again. Then Sam stepped in his direct view of the chair, still on the platform. James didn’t know if that was any better, because now he couldn’t look up at all. 

“And it doesn’t look like any of you are in any kind of shape to drive.” That was the Archer. Hawkeye. James focused on that voice, finding the strength to look up to watch Barton slip Eliot’s arm over his shoulder to start walking him to James. “Hill, I’m off duty as of now. See you in the morning.”

“Dammit Barton!” She didn’t really do anything to stop him, just dropped her head into her hand to rub at her temples. Probably relieved that one of her own was stepping up. 

They were even with him now, Eliot and Barton. James finally let go of Annie’s hand to wrap Eliot’s free arm around his neck, taking a large amount of his weight. It worried him that Eliot wasn’t even grumbling about it. The back of his neck crawled as the five of them walked out of the warehouse. But no one tried to dissuade them. 

As one, he and Eliot stopped at the door, turning to look at Hardison and Parker. “If you try to keep them,” James started.

“We’ll tear everything you’ve got down to the ground to get them back,” Eliot finished.

They made around the corner, with the van in sight before Barton finally spoke up, “Okay, so are you guys actually twins? Or clones? Because I’m not sure which is scarier here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so yeah, lots of truth bombs there. I don't think I really quoted any particular Leverage episode, but as Chibi pointed out last week, in S2E2, the Tap Out Job, Eliot takes the punishment, because he can. I just uhm.. *halo* yeaaaahhh. The conversation referenced by Steve with James was in Chapter 2, to orient in the timeline. 
> 
> And yeah.. this is how I'm handling Civil War. Whoopsie? Heh. It just makes more sense to me, given what I've laid out here. Not canon: Winter being sent after Peggy Carter and Bruce Banner. Canon is Gideon Malick, he's pretty heavily involved in season 3 of Agents of Shield. 
> 
> I do have two more full chapters and an epilogue to wrap up all my loose threads and head canons here. but hopefully this chapter makes up for the shenanigans I pulled in the previous five?


	7. What Kind of Op was This?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clint didn't get hurt and Maria didn't have to yell.

James hated that this guy might be right. He really didn’t want to give this Barton the keys to the van. But all four of them were pretty shaky after it all was said and done. So he did the next best thing. He put Alice in the passenger seat up front and gave her the tracker along with Parker’s spare taser, to her delight. “Dude, come on. That shit hurts!” Barton had said, but didn’t try to take it away from her. 

It also meant that he could see to Eliot, with Annie’s help. She was trying to mop the blood from his face, which was at least trying to clot now. “Hey,” James said softly, kneeling down in front of his friend as Barton pulled out of the parking lot. “Tell me what’s going on.” He was still listening to Hardison and Parker arguing with Hill about Pierce. They sounded safe, so he focused on Eliot.

“What’s going on is I’m not cooking for at least a week, if not two. I think he broke my arm. Tore up my knee too, but the arm’s the worst. Ribs are pretty sore too, but not broken. Maybe a concussion.” 

“Aw man,” Barton murmured from up front. “Those were really good burgers.” 

James rolled his eyes but started to unzip Eliot out of the tactical gear. Once the jacket was eased off him, James could unbuckle the harness that held the fake metal arm in place. “Upper or lower arm?” he asked softly. Ever since the incident after his nightmare, he’d gotten a crash course in first aid, courtesy of the man panting in front of him.

“Lower, probably radius and ulna both,” Eliot muttered. His right hand was clenched tight on the cabinet in front of him. Sweat had also soaked right through the Underarmor shirt he’d worn under the gear. The company name still made James want to giggle.

“Okay. Annie, could you help me? I need to keep his arm supported while I take this off.” He moved back, pulling her right in between himself and Eliot as he started to break the metal sheath apart. It was just a series of interlocking plates, much like his own arm, but Hardison had designed it to come apart much easier. Together, he and Annie had the thing off and a split holding Eliot’s arm in place by the time the van pulled to a stop in front of a low, nondescript building. Sweat had run rivulets through the blood smears on the hitter’s face, but he was grinning. Sometimes Eliot scared him.

Barton turned to smile at them before speaking. “If you had asked, I would’ve told you that we brought them to our place.” 

“Were you people watching when they kidnapped me and my sister? And you didn’t even try to help?” Alice retorted, aiming the taser at him. 

“Alice,” Annie hissed, frowning at her sister. James had a vague notion of sisters bickering around him, one of the older memories floating up to the surface for a moment. 

“Well it’s true!” Alice yelled back. 

James spoke before Barton had a chance to. “They were too busy watching me.”

Alice twisted around to glare at him. “And are you going to explain that?” 

“Yes, once we get Stevie and DA and get everyone to a safe place,” he promised. Then he pointed forward. “Barton, would you go in with me and Annie so we don’t have to break your security?” 

The guy’s eyebrows went up a little in surprise, but he never lost the smile. “Sure. Although right now, I’m kinda wondering if you haven’t already.” 

James merely shrugged, returning the smile without realizing it. “Maybe. Not my department.” Eliot chuckled at that, turning to tap at the keyboard laying nearby with his right hand, his left cradled against his chest in the sling that Annie had made out of the harness pieces. 

The one thing he had to do before they went anywhere was to strip out of his own tac gear first, pulling on a red Henley shirt instead. The gear made him queasy, thinking of possibilities of things he still didn’t want to do. “Okay, lead the way, Barton.” 

“Clint. Just call me Clint. You sound like Maria when you do that.” Seriously, did this guy ever stop smiling? And why was he still attractive when he was so damned annoying?

~ ~ ~ ~ 

Once the boys were out the door, even with the weird archer guy tagging along, Parker felt she could relax a little more. The whole warehouse was alive with Shield personnel, but no one followed them out the door. 

“So now what?” the woman named Maria Hill asked. Her voice was slightly amused, and her body language was loosening up. Really, the woman reminded her of Nate. Like… superhero Nate. 

“You guys take this away, take him,” and she thumbed over her shoulder at the big robot behind her,” and go find Pierce before she activates another one of these poor kids and comes back.” 

Hardison squeezed her arm gently, trying to give her a little stability. “Compromise?” Hardison asked, smiling slyly. Parker swatted him on the shoulder. 

“Of course you had my office bugged.” The woman, no, her name was Hill. Hill stepped off the platform, coming to them while rubbing the bridge of her nose. She stopped for a second, then turned to where Vassiliev was just standing calmly, waiting for orders. “He’s OK?” She asked softly.

“No. He’s just,” Parker fumbled for the right word.

Hardison found it for her, “Paused. Waiting for his next order. Whole damn thing is messed up.” He dug around in his backpack, then pulled out the file and tablet where they’d compiled all the information they’d found or James had remembered about the guy. “As far as we can tell, he was Soldier #2 in rank behind James. And he volunteered.” 

Vassiliev smiled at that. Parker wanted to throw up again. She had once, earlier, just thinking about what might have happened with James.

Sam with the wings came down too, and he was the one who took the files from Hardison. “Thank you. You could’ve said something, you know.” 

Parker looked at Hill again, then shook her head. “No, you’d want to take James in, do your thing with him. I can’t do that to my friend. This way, you know where he is, you know HOW he is.” She couldn’t help it when her voice went soft. “He’s free, he’s comfortable, and he doesn’t do this anymore. That’s why Eliot took the fight.” 

A couple Shield guys came closer, holding restraints as they walked warily around Vassiliev. “Soldat! Put your hands in front of you,” she ordered. The giant Russian complied, allowing the agents to snap the hardware around his wrists. “Go with these men, let them see to your injuries. Comply with their orders.” Just saying that made her stomach roll and flip again.

“You guys need to break that thing down and take it to wherever Coulson hides your toys. Study it, then destroy it,” Hardison told Hill, with his serious voice. “We’ve been trying various things to try and break James’ conditioning, but it’s too deep for us, and tied to that thing.”

“You expect us to experiment on Vassiliev?” Sam with the wings asked, his voice a little wobbly. He sounded like Hardison did sometimes.

“James said the machine doesn’t work unless you have someone in it,” she replied sourly. “Listen, I don’t even wanna look at it anymore. Why don’t we take you, your hacker Skye, and Coulson to our place while your guys clean up? I need fresh air.” 

“James and your man Barton will probably meet us there too,” Hardison said. 

Parker paused for a moment, listening to the boys in the van, then glared at Hill. “And a medic. We need someone to cast Eliot’s arm.”

~ ~ ~ ~ 

 

Clint led them into the condominiums, still feeling like the fight was yet to come. He didn’t even have any bruises. Fights never ended without at least something bugging him. It left him feeling off kilter. And this pair of fighters, the Winter Soldier and his clone, were not what he’d been led to expect. 

Barnes was much more together than anyone had led them to believe, including the surveillance footage they’d been compiling of the guy directly. Wait, did it still count as direct surveillance if it had been staged? These people were very good. Tasha would love them. And Steve?

Well, once he got over everything and forgave them for fucking up, he’d be happy about this particular development. Unless Barnes was still firm on the no meeting up rule. Now that, that was messed up. Did he not realize how much this was driving Steve crazy?

Clint paused at the outer door, hitting the intercom, buzzing it twice, waiting for a long moment, then buzzing it twice again before unlocking the door. “If we just walk right in, we won’t get a good reception.” Barnes arched an eyebrow at him, but the woman, Annie, just jutted her jaw out more until he finally opened the door and led them in. “DA, it’s Clint Barton. I have two people with me.” 

“Yeah, I know, I was listening in.” The old vet had rolled out into the hall, both of Sam’s back up submachine guns in his hands as he stared down the hall at them. “What the hell happened?” 

Clint gestured with his thumb behind him, then stepped to the side so Barnes was visible. “We got played! These guys rigged everything. It was like watching a Las Vegas casino run the floor.” Now he wanted to watch Oceans 11 again, dammit.

“I want my son, where is he?” Annie demanded, pushing past both Barnes and himself to walk straight up to DA. “We’ve been neighbors a long time, DA. Don’t do this to me.” 

“It’s OK, Annie. But these guys mess with things we shouldn’t have to deal with.” DA put both guns down into his lap, then turned his chair around to wheel into the living room. Annie followed him, leaving Barnes behind with Clint.

He turned to look at the other guy, cocking his head to wait and see what the man would do. He stood, leaning against the door jam, watching Clint with pretty much the same manner. “So I’m guessing you guys already knew we were here?” Clint pointed at the floor, indicating the building itself. Barnes shrugged, then smiled. “You don’t talk much, do you?” 

“Usually don’t have reason to.” The man’s arms were folded, metal over flesh. But his shoulders were relaxed and the look on his face was what Clint called amused alertness when Tasha wore that expression. Huh, now that might not be a coincidence, he thought.

Clint could hear DA and the woman talking while they gathered up the little boy and all the stuff that had multiplied. Tony had sent a full Captain America play kit along with the Iron Man gear when he’d heard about him. “You remind me a little of a friend of mine.” Clint paused, rubbing the bridge of his nose, trying to look as inoffensive as he could. “You know anything about the Red Room?” 

Barnes’ jaw flexed and his whole body tensed. The man’s eyes shifted, looking at the hall now from a defensive stance. It piqued Clint’s curiosity, why that statement would startle someone like James? Finally, he spoke. “A little. The woman, from DC? The one that fights beside you and Steve?” He reached up to rub his throat. Clint nodded slowly, staying on his side of the hall. “Explains a lot.” 

“She wants to meet you, you know,” Clint added. Barnes paled, shifting away from him and dropping into a vague fighter’s stance. Now that response, he didn’t expect. “Just to talk, I think.” Barnes looked back at the door, shifting his weight. Aw, mouth. “Nobody really knows with Natasha sometimes.” Humor don’t fail me now. “She just is.”

Barnes started to say something, then turned his head to the side, as if he was listening to someone else. Probably his comm system. Before he could answer, Annie came back down the hall with the sleeping boy in her arms. Barnes leapt forward to take him, and to Clint’s surprise, she let him. 

“DA, you want to come with us?” Barnes asked, before he looked back at Clint. “You can come too, if you want. At least until we get Hardison and Parker back.”

The old vet nodded and rolled forward, heading for the door with only one gun tucked in behind his back. 

“Where are we going?” Clint asked, bouncing on his toes. 

“Headquarters,” Barnes replied, casually turning his back on him to lead the whole procession back outside. Stevie rode against his metal shoulder, not even waking up.

~ ~ ~ ~

Headquarters turned out to be the room above the restaurant. What looked like cracked glass features in the lights from downstairs turned out to be one way mirrored skylights, giving perfect visibility to anyone watching from above. Maria approved, then wondered if she could put those in her office. 

She sat at a table with Parker, Sam, Hardison, and Skye. Predictably, the two hackers were already lost in their own conversation, arguing points and counter points about the past three weeks. Across the room, Annie and the acting team medic, Simmons, saw to setting the fighter’s arm and tending to the rest of Spencer’s wounds. Coulson was nearby, on the phone with May who was still at the warehouse, cleaning up the site.

Barnes was in the kitchen, after Spencer had growled at him for hovering. DA and the sister Alice Gallagher had followed him in there. Whatever they were doing definitely smelled good over here. The group rounded out with Barton sitting with Annie Gallagher’s son Stevie. The boy had woken up and was hanging on Hawkeye’s every word. Clint was good with kids, especially ones that idolized him.

Parker eyed her warily. Hill had the feeling that she was being sized up and judged all over again. She settled on her best Fury imitation, keeping her face calm and clear. The thief looked like she was on the verge of saying something when Coulson snapped his phone shut and came over to them. Technically, he was the head of Shield. But she ran the Avengers Acadamy. It made seniority a little murky.

“We have thirty Hydra agents accounted for, including a couple ex-Shield we hadn’t caught up with yet. One missing vehicle, presumably Pierce’s route out. Why did we not catch her?” Coulson sat down across from her, shaking his head. 

“Too focused on us,” Parker retorted. “That woman’s almost as good as I am about using distraction.” 

That caught the hacker Hardison’s attention. “Right, so Skye, you wanna play with the city grid with me?” The man had an easy way about him, even as he pushed up from the table and headed over to the bank of computers. 

“Hinkerson,” Parker said, after the two hackers had left. “He escaped too. She might have gone to him. He also has to answer for his part.” 

“That’s the guy you were running that con on, right?” Coulson asked, pulling out his own tablet to take notes.

“We picked him because he had a business relationship with her. We wanted to shake her out of her hidey hole. James volunteered to play bait.” The woman looked back and forth between Coulson and Hill. “He still needs to pay for his part in this. And for what he did to his tenants.” 

“How did you see your con playing out, if Pierce hadn’t interrupted?” Hill asked, genuinely curious. The file said they didn’t do anything without at least five contingency plans.

“We would have exposed his business to investors, the city, and the media, linked you in to his Hydra connections. Once the furor was at it’s peak, next step would be to start a non profit foundation to take over several of the complexes, give veterans jobs in rehabbing the buildings in return for a place to live while they rehab themselves.” She glanced over at Annie watching her son, then to the kitchen where DA was making Alice laugh. “And we had our board of directors already picked out for the foundation.”

“That is awesome,” Sam said, leaning forward. “Think we could still make that happen? I know a lot of guys who could use a place like that.” Sam glanced at Maria, his eyes soft in that way she hoped she only got to see. “Shield as well as regular military. A lot of your guys fell off the grid after DC cause they couldn’t handle what happened then.” 

Dammit, he was right. “I don’t see why not,” Hill found herself saying, already calculating what resources Shield might need to spare for security. 

Parker smiled, nodding. “Right, so we’ve got the funding taken care of. We need help getting the city to take care of the plumbing. The lead poisoning is almost to the point that the complex is on the verge of being condemned, if they knew.” 

“Wait, how’d you do the funding? That’s going to take millions.” These people never seemed to have money problems. Granted, they were thieves and good ones, but that stuff could be tracked.

Parker merely smiled and pointed over at Hardison. “He’s very good at what he does.” 

“Age of the geek, baby!” he replied, not even turning around.

~ ~ ~ ~

Sam slipped away while Parker talked to Hill about possibilities on what Hinkerson and Pierce might do. His input was “run.” Which they agreed, but there were more variations. What really interested him was in the kitchen, cooking. And refusing to look up. Sam recognized it as avoidance. A lot of the vets in his various groups had similar reactions.

Alice had carried plates to everyone not in the kitchen before going to sit with Stevie, and the simple burgers and potatoes smelled amazing. But as much as he wanted to grab one and bury his face in it, he wanted to talk to James more. 

The kitchen had a breakfast bar running along the same counter that James stood at, putting together the meal. Sam had a hunch that if he tried to go into the kitchen, James would just go out the other end, so he sat down at the bar. DA grinned up at him, then handed him a full plate. “God, thank you. I’m starving.” 

“You two talk, I’m gonna go check on my boy.” DA put a plate for himself in his lap and started to wheel over to where Clint and Alice were trying to get Stevie to try the potatoes at least. 

“Thanks DA, for everything,” Sam said, leaning over to catch his hand in a clasp, squeezing tight. 

“I gotta say, I think it’s time for me to get out of this business, if these are the stakes you play with. Sorry Sam.” DA squeezed back, shrugging.

“No, I get it. I’m not sure I’m made out for this either,” Sam replied. 

“Riley would be proud of you though. I know I am,” DA said, before letting go and wheeling over to the table. Sam nodded, feeling his heart clench as always, but he hoped DA was right.

He couldn’t look up at James just yet, so instead he focused on the plate. Took a bite of the burger and almost melted. “Oh god,” he moaned, chewing that first bite slowly. Spicy, but still melting in his mouth with rich beef taste. “Just, wow dude.” 

“Eliot taught me,” James said softly. The man hadn’t moved away from his counter, but he was busying himself with cleaning up. Sam had an idea that it was giving the guy a reason not to look up. He hadn’t looked at Sam in the warehouse either. That was the one thing that made him more curious than anything. He also wasn’t eating, even though he’d made extras for everyone.

“Well, he’s a good teacher then.” Sam took another bite, letting the silence stretch, then asked as quietly as he could. “How are you doing?”

James shrugged, still not looking up. “Which answer do you want?” Well that was honest. And Sam thought it meant there was a lot more awareness in James than he’d hoped for.

“Your answer,” Sam said, putting the burger down to really watch him now. 

James shrugged again, pushing a rag across the already clean counter. “I’m okay. Just… processing? Is that the word people use now?” The answer felt hedged, but Sam wasn’t gonna call him out about it.

“It’s a good one,” Sam admitted. “It’s been over a year since DC. You’re, ah, a lot more pleasant now. Is that okay to say?” 

That got a small smile and a nod. His shoulders relaxed which made Sam feel a little easier. “I hope I am. I’m sorry, you know.” 

“Hey, we know. That wasn’t you.” Sam kept his voice soft, tried to keep blame out of his words.

“I tore your wing off, kicked you off the helicarrier.” The words were soft despite the crack through half of them, and now James was looking up at him, despite the long hair hanging into his face. The long night had already worn him out, and now he looked exactly like Steve had when he’d finished reading the Russian file. Broken, but still trying to hold the world steady on his shoulders.

“Hey, all that, that’s on Hydra.” James flinched and looked down again, shifting his weight as he took a step back, away from Sam. “But you look like you need to hear it. So hey, look up, please.” He waited until James could, taking it for a win. “I forgive you for everything in DC. The car, the fighting, hell, even the helicarrier.” He held up a finger, arching an eyebrow. “Mostly because I got to guilt trip Stark into giving me an upgraded Falcon pack.” That got him another small smile, so he went for his big guns. Just remember, it took both of us to get Steve out of that mess, yeah? That counts for a lot.” 

James snorted even as his eyes went a little unfocused. “First thing I really remember? Was dragging him out of the water. I had no clue what was going on, but that felt normal, pulling him out of something he couldn’t win alone.” 

“He always says that he’s the hot head, but you were the smart one.” James laughed and flushed a little, shaking his head while Sam went back to his hamburger. “Think maybe he was right. You’ve created something here for yourself.” He looked up to see James staring at the people across the room. “You know what you are, what you’ve done. What you can do. But you’ve figured out how to neutralize yourself, found people you can trust, and you’re planning for the future. There’s a lot of normal people in this world that can’t do a fraction of that, you know.” 

Silence fell as he let James digest that, taking advantage of the chance of putting more food into himself. 

“That’s the thing, though,” James finally said, leaning against the counter as he looked at Sam, truly looked at him instead of hiding. “I’m not normal.” 

Sam raised his burger up as a salute in response. “I don’t think anyone in this room would count themselves as normal either. That’s why we become friends. We’re the only people who’d understand each other.” He paused, then added, “that includes Steve too.” 

James snorted, folding his arms around himself, flesh over metal. “Man, I am not looking forward to that phone call.”

“Yeah, me neither,” Sam agreed. To his delight, James laughed with him.

~ ~ ~ ~

Romanoff was sprawled out in the cradle, sleeping off a possible head wound. Wanda rode in the far back of the quinjet, not quite ready to talk. The mission hadn’t been a total disaster, they’d still managed to take back the Chitauri technology without a body count. They just weren’t welcome in that part of Sweden anymore. 

Steve sat in the pilot’s seat, trying to figure out the time zones, if it’d be safe to call Sam or Clint. He couldn’t seem to tap into Tony’s network, but that wasn’t anything new. Sometimes Tony took it down when yet another hacker or someone tried to take it over. Four years since waking up and dealing with the confusing array of things in this century, now he felt disconnected when the technology of the age failed him. That thought amused him greatly. 

Finally he gave up and pulled out his phone to read while the plane flew itself. He couldn’t sleep, not when he remembered this was close to where he and the Valkyrie sat for seventy years. He was halfway through a new book about the human genome project when Sam sent him a message. 

_Hill says you’re about two hours from the complex. She’s going to meet you there, so do me a favor. LISTEN to her first. Then get mad. Once you’re done arguing, go down to the gym and break your punching bags. Eat dinner. When you’re done, call this number. And for fuck’s sake, do it in that order! If you’re not calm when you call, it’s going to be a disaster._

Steve suddenly had a very bad feeling about Seattle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think I really quoted any Leverage episode.. No wait, I did too. "He's like Nate... Evil Nate!" was Parker's reaction to meeting Sterling in the Two-Horse Job, S1E3. 
> 
> Lots of reaction, not really much action, sorry. But oh.. Poor Steve...


	8. Lessons on How to Manage Steve Rogers

As the night evolved into morning, James slipped out of the room on the pretense of taking stuff downstairs to the restaurant’s kitchen. Too many people in his safe place, and they didn’t seem to be leaving anytime soon. He wanted to keep going, get his backpack and stuff Malaya in it, take off on one of his bikes. The aborted fight had made the Asset come awake, making him aware of everything. James had fought the instinct as long as he could, but he still had too many impulses firing constantly. When he realized he’d mapped out a fight plan, how to take down every single one of the thirteen people in the room and disappear, he knew he’d hit overload.

But leaving the building was almost as frightening as staying there. Pierce had gotten loose, had managed to slip right through their fingers, despite their best efforts. As long as she was out there, in charge of the Winter program, he was still at risk. Especially now, with the Asset trying to throttle James from within and take over again. It wasn’t just the fight. Sam had triggered another door open, remembering what he’d done to the man on the helicarrier to him. The Asset itched to go finish the job, then go find Pierce. It wanted to go back to where it was safe. James didn’t. 

He took a deep breath and reminded himself that he was the one who was still in control. He was the one who chose to scale the side of the building up to his private entrance in the back. He was the one who slipped into his apartment long enough to capture Malaya and put her in her Captain America harness to take her up to his private spot on the third floor. Then, once he was settled in, he whispered softly into his comms, “Parker, don’t let them look. I’m in overload.” 

“Okay James, we’ve got this. We’re going to put Eliot to bed in your spare room. He’s almost completely out.” He let him smile a bit about Eliot. The man hadn’t overstated his endurance. No, he was something special, being able to act like he really was the Winter Soldier, even as he tried to control the fight and keep everyone safe. 

He started to relive the night, then brutally cut himself off, forcing his mind to the simple things. Finally eating his own meal, now that he was safe from everyone’s eyes. Watching Malaya pounce and tackle the stuffed mice he kept up here for her. Lighting the candle that reminded him of Eliot’s sugar cookies. Watch everyone downstairs through his own private video system. It took a couple hours to settle his mind, but he felt better once it was done. It was already after dawn here. Most of the Shield people had left, except for the Sam guy. 

Steve had told him about taking Sam to meet Rebecca. Both Rebeccas. He wanted to know more about them. That was a conversation he wanted to have with Sam, and soon. Hardison had found out all he could online about the Barnes clan in Brooklyn, but bare facts couldn’t come close to knowing someone face to face. 

James kinda wished Barton had stayed, so he could explore how he felt on that. He let himself think about how it had felt catching the archer, how he looked in the hallway that moment they’d been alone. Definite attraction there. James looked down at his crotch, contemplating. OK, attraction yes, but still no interest yet about following up on it. Good to know.

He did not think of Steve. James had gotten good at re-routing those thoughts while he had worked through things. Now, as he settled in to his nest of pillows and blankets, he purposefully made his mind mind blank. There was another nightmare coming, but at least he wouldn’t hurt anyone when he woke up this time. 

~ ~ ~ ~ 

Sam and Clint had been drafted to help Hardison and Parker move the fighter Spencer to a bedroom on the same floor. They were at the door when Sam realized that James hadn’t come back into the room. He still had a million of questions to ask, both as Steve’s friend and eyes on the ground, and as a counselor. He prided himself on how well he did his job, and frankly, he’d not met many POW’s. But he knew the look of PTSD. Tonight wasn’t the night to push, but he also didn’t want to lose any progress already made over burgers. 

Hardison was the one that stayed behind to fuss over Spencer, and that surprised him. It was Parker who made sure the two had privacy by driving himself and Clint out of the room. Thankfully, Clint was his usual annoying self and took most of the thief’s attention so Sam could look around the small apartment. It was almost painfully obvious that this was James’ place. He couldn’t imagine the younger three having posters of the Andrew Sisters or Clark Gable up as decoration. There was also a large cat tree in the middle of the room, and plenty of toys all around. And a few Captain America things around. He caught sight of a single picture, one from the Smithsonian of pre-serum Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes, framed on a shelf, before he was pushed out the door completely. 

“Clint, go ahead and see what Maria’s planning? I’d like to ask Parker something real quick,” he said, turning to her hopefully. Their conversation in the parking lot had been short and confusing. 

“Sure, but do I argue for staying around or backing off?” Clint smiled at Parker, cocking his head a little instead of shrugging.

“Staying, if,” and Sam looked at Parker too, “that’s okay. Couldn’t hurt to have a liaison or two around, just in case?”

“I think that’s already been decided by Hill,” Parker said, crossing her arms, staring at Sam with her brows creased. If this woman could read minds as well as plot like a master mind, they were definitely in trouble.

Clint just tapped Sam’s shoulder before wandering away, murmuring something about leftover hamburgers. Sam waved him off, then turned 75% of his charm to the woman watching him. “Is he okay, really? James, I mean.”

Parker stared at him, obviously thinking it over. “He’s in overload, so he’s grabbing some peace and quiet to deal,” she admitted after a moment.

“OK. Then when he’s ready to think about it, could you ask him if he’s okay with talking to me some more?” he asked softly.

She softened a little. Of the three friends James had made, Sam quickly decided she was the most dangerous. She’d do anything to protect him, and could do anything. “I’ll ask him.” 

“Thanks. And hey, about making those apartments into veteran housing,” He started, jumping onto the one part that really excited him. “If they let me stick around, any chance I could help out with that?” 

“I think Eliot was hoping you would, actually.” Parker steered him into the main room, pushing him back to his team. Maria caught his eyes first, quirking an eyebrow. He just gave her an easy smile in response. She was still wearing her boss face, but the corner of her mouth might have quirked. This could get interesting. 

~ ~ ~ ~

Maria was glad she was able to sleep on planes. Even ones stuffed with dangerous psychotic assassins. But Vassiliev had listened to the orders he’d been given, in any language. It was clear he responded better to Russian. She’d have to pull Romanoff off Steve’s detail for a while. 

Those were the plans she was drawing up hours later when the man himself charged into her office. Her office, she reminded herself, despite how much he disregarded rank around here. “Sit, Rogers. This isn’t going to be easy.” _Soften things up for him_ , Sam had suggested. “Please, Steve.” 

“Just explain how this happened? You almost let him get recaptured.” He balanced on his toes, still in his mission uniform, but thankfully, without the shield. 

“That was the point, actually. That crew your friend James fell in with? Frankly,” and she spread her hands wide, leaning back in her chair. “They’re amazing. They planned almost every minute of that, including letting Skye into their system and letting us think we finally infiltrated them. I’d hire all three of them in a heartbeat, if they’d sign.” She gave him a soft apologetic smile.

“Walk me through it, from the beginning,” Steve demanded. He did her the courtesy of listening as she repeated what the trio had explained to her. The Captain look she was used to was on his face the entire time, and oddly, that comforted her. A hysterical Rogers was a wild card she didn’t want to handle.

“We’ve got Vassiliev downstairs in the Hulk suite, and Coulson’s techs are crawling all over that abomination machine, working it over. Steve, I gotta be honest with you. They were right, and so were you.” 

Steve blinked, his mouth halted on whatever he was about to say, just a “huh?” slipping out instead.

“He’s okay where he’s at. He’s in no shape to be in this business. He couldn’t look at the machine. He couldn’t move. He was fine away from the fighting, but Barnes froze up badly when the threat was past. He’s dysfunctional to the point that I’d have no choice to put him on indefinite medical if he was here. He belongs there, in Seattle. Those three, plus Sam, will keep him safe, I think.” Steve started to interject, but she held up a hand, asking for one more moment. “He’s incredibly functional otherwise. He fed all of us last night. He’s been studying biology, electronics, and computer sciences, and he’s good at that. He’s a good man. Their client trusted him on sight, it looks like. He really is building something out there.” 

Steve deflated a little, curling in on himself some. The other thing Sam had said, _he’s hurt that he can’t be a part of that_. “They didn’t say it explicitly, but I get the impression he’s trying to fix himself before he sees you again.” She let that sink in. “Making sure we were there if Pierce did follow up on their bait was two fold. One, they wanted Vassiliev and that machine out of the way. Two, they also want us to study it, figure out how they did what they did to Barnes. He still has the control phrases locked away in his brain.” 

She kicked herself for being so blunt. She didn’t know how to soften things up, not for the 98 year old super soldier crumbling in front of her. But Maria always did her best. She got up from her chair and moved around to sit next to him, as a friend, not a boss. She wasn’t comfortable touching him, but at least she could at least offer this. 

“What the hell, Maria? This is just…” and Steve shook his head before dropping forward, cradling his head in both hands. 

“None of this is your fault, Steve. This is all Hydra, all Zola and maybe a little on Shield too, for not watching that rat bastard closer.” Neither of them mentioned Peggy being part of that process.

“But I still can’t, be there.” Captain America was nowhere in this room. This is all Rogers now, going to pieces in her office, in her most comfortable chair. _Dammit Sam, I need you HERE_. This is what she had been afraid of.

“Not yet. Don’t crack up on me yet, Steve. There’s one more thing I have to explain to you.” She bit her lip as he hiccuped and tried hard to pull himself back together. “I’ve spent half the flight back reading through the files they put together on James. And there’s one more bit that they hadn’t shared with us yet. Zola, the Russians, and Hydra, they layered his programming. It’s some of the ugliest things I’ve ever seen, and I worked with Fury for a decade.” 

“Just say it Maria. I’m dying here.” Steve looked it too. His eyes were red from holding back and his jaw was locked tight.

She decided to go for it. It’s how she would want to know. “They realized, after a few missions and perfecting the cryo system, that there was a chance you could pop up some day too. After all, you went down in icy waters, close to a glacier flow. Natural cryogenic possibilities and all that. If they had a chance to send him after you, what better to already have a kill order in place?”

Steve froze at that, his voice going deeper. “Are you saying it’s still active?” 

“Parker’s pretty sure that’s why he left DC, instead of sticking around. It was something that dated back to the Russians and Zola. After his creators, for lack of a better word, lost control and he shifted to Pierce’s command, they didn’t understand a lot of knowledge about how he was made. Including the underlying programming.” She looked away, kicking a foot out. “Pierce was an idiot and I still have a hard time believing I worked for that asshole.” 

She had hoped for a “me too” but Steve was staring out the window. She weighed her options, then went for it. “You can still help him, without being there, you know.” 

That got his attention. Icy blue eyes were boring into her now, eager, almost hungry in anything she could give him. “Pierce got away. Rumlow’s still out there. In addition, there might be five more soldiers for them to work with. I’d like to prioritize your missions towards them. There’s going to be some funky reassignments but I think we could make it work.” 

“You’re taking Natasha from me?” Yeah, the guy was smart for an icicle.

“Part time. I need her Russian knowledge of the Red Room and their compulsion programs to crack through to Vassiliev. Coulson is technically in charge of the machine, but his kids, Fitz, Simmons, and Skye are going to be reporting directly us as well as Coulson. You’re 100% in the loop.” _Make him feel a part of it_ , Sam said. Hopefully this would work.

They talked for a bit longer, but Steve was breaking apart. She thought about calling Natasha, but the Widow was holed up in her rooms for the moment. _Just like Barnes had_ , she realized. She kept an eye on Rogers as he headed down to the Hulk Suite to see things for himself. Maria knew he’d be going to the training rooms later to work things out on punching bags. That gave her time to sketch in some other contingency plans.

The Avengers relied on Captain America at their center, or there were no Avengers. So what would they do when this situation finally cracked Rogers apart for good? 

If Fury had shown up at that moment to demand his job back, Maria might have thrown it at him and skipped out the back door before he finished the sentence. 

~ ~ ~ ~

Steve stood outside the Hulk Suite, sitting right where Simmons said he could watch but Vassiliev couldn’t see him. Part of his brain told him he should eat. His metabolism was tipping into the red zone, but his stomach still rebelled at… hell, everything. 

The Russian in the suite was huge, bigger than Thor. He’d be a great sparring partner some day. Maybe. 

“I really don’t like the idea of using him as a lab rat still. Isn’t that what he was already?” Simmons whispered to Fitz. Steve wanted to tell her that no, he wasn’t the original lab rat. He thought of how terrified Bucky had been in Zola’s lab in ‘44. How it took half the march back to the Allied base before he accepted that it wasn’t a dream. That Steve was real. 

He’d never forgotten how Bucky had shivered every night in their tent afterward, reacting to the serum in his body without knowing it. Steve should have seen it. But no, he’d been too ecstatic then, at being healthy himself, at being fucking _useful_ for the first time in his life. They’d wanted him then, and it all had gone to his head. He knew that now. 

Beyond the glass, Vassiliev simply sat on a bunk and stared. Waited. Steve wondered if he had any thoughts of his own yet. Bucky… no, _James_ hadn’t broken programming until Steve tried to reach him. He turned to Skye, murmuring soft to keep from interrupting the twin brains. “Has anyone tried to talk to him yet?” 

“We have. He’s in deep. Your uh, friend James, he mentioned that Vassiliev volunteered for the program. That probably changes things.” She tapped at a few things, watching a multitude of screens. If she was mad at being duped by Hardison, she wasn’t showing it. 

“I’d like to talk to him, when that’s cleared.” Steve did know how to ask permission sometimes, despite what everyone thought of him. “Not right now, but,” and he waved his hand in the air, “whenever you think he’s ready.” He swallowed down the thought of his own Bucky being programmed to kill him on sight. Vassiliev probably had the same command implanted. He wasn’t dumb enough not to think they didn’t try for it. The memory of the other soldiers his team had taken down flashed through his mind. The sheer hate each of them had shown when they looked at him. Yeah, probably best he didn’t take part of the interrogation process.

“I think that’d be good, actually. He responds well to authority, we’ve learned that,” Skye said, not even looking up from her screens. 

They both fell silent to watch Simmons take a tray of simple Russian food into the room. The kitchens could whip up everything on demand, thanks to Natasha’s tastes. The soldier looked up, but did not move. “Soldier. Please move to the table and eat.” Simmons, polite to a fault, as always.

Then Vassiliev moved, picking up the bread and meats, but ignoring the borscht. Steve couldn’t help but smile at that. Nat didn’t like it either. 

“Anatoli Gregoriovich Vassiliev,” a familiar voice murmured softly at his elbow. He wasn’t surprised that Natasha had slipped in while they were watching. Steve spared a glance to his side. Her eyes were wide as she took in the view. 

“Had you met him before?” He asked softly, shifting half a step to her. He could ignore his own thoughts if he thought she needed the support.

“A couple times. He was a legend, even before he went into the program. I thought he had died.” Natasha had her arms wrapped tightly around her, putting off don’t-touch-me vibes at a high level. 

“According to James, he did. Now we just have to find a way for him to tell us if he wants what’s left.” He dropped his eyes to the floor, toeing at the edge of the floor tiles. 

Natasha flicked her eyes at him, narrowing a little as she thought about that. “He will. I want to talk to your James.” 

“Clint passed the message on to him last night,” Steve said softly. 

“Good. Let’s go.” Natasha turned and headed to the door, her arms still crossed and shoulders hunched. 

Steve followed. He wasn’t the only one who liked to punch things to work out his emotions. 

#

Hours later, he let himself rest in the stuffing spilling across the floor, finally boneless in exhaustion. No one had dared come into the gym while the two of them sparred. Steve only hoped that maybe some of Natasha’s reputation was rubbing off onto him. That’d be nice. 

She sat in a pile of destroyed bags, breathing just as hard as he was. He felt pride in the fact that her hair was slicked down with sweat and disheveled. “Okay Rogers. I’m done. If you got anything left, take it out on the recruits.” Natasha pushed up, walking past him and leaning down to tap the top of his head twice before heading out of the gym to her place. 

“Yes, boss.” Really, now all he wanted was a shower while his shoulder reintegrated itself again, and half the mess hall’s available menu in front of him. But instead, he pushed up to walk over to the cleaning supplies. He wasn’t a complete asshole. 

To his surprise, several of the recruits came forward to help. They still looked up at him with stars in their eyes, but there was a lot of respect behind it. Frankly, it reminded him of how line soldiers in the war would watch the Commandos. Not just him, but all eight of them, Peggy included. He made sure he gave each of them a smile and a soft “Thank you” as they swept everything up and tossed the ripped bags and sparring mats. Nat never left her knives out of their brawls these days, even if he didn’t grab the shield.

He got his shower, even got the meal he’d promised himself. Sam had been right, but damned if Steve would ever tell him that. But he still felt incredibly lonely when he dialed the number Sam had sent that morning. The knobby knit hat pulled tight on his head helped some, but it also underlined how alone he was.

It took a few rings before it was picked up. “Hey Steve.” The voice was a little wobbly, and there was a lot of background noise. 

“Hey James. Thanks for uh, trusting me with your number.” Because that’s what it was, trust. Finally, after all these months.

There was a long pause at the other end. “You sound like shit. You haven’t slept, have you?” 

“I don’t think I can yet. Too much to process. You sound… occupied.” There were other voices in the background. It sounded like a park with all the children’s voices.

James snorted a little. “Parker has interesting ideas about hiding in plain sight sometimes.” 

Steve smiled at that. “She sounds like Natasha. Half the time you don’t see her, because she blends in too well.” 

There was a long silence at that, then Steve could hear something like a bench creaking. “They said she wants to meet me.” James’ voice was cracking a little.

“She does. Besides you and Sam, she’s one of the best friends I have now.” Steve tried to put all the trust he had for Natasha into his voice. He knew he sounded too earnest, but if James could meet her, maybe that would prove it’d be safe to finally let him in too? 

“That makes sense. She scares me as much as you do.” There was another definite crack in his voice, but this was the first time Steve could remember James admitting he was scared.

“I don’t mean to, James. You know I’ll do whatever you need me to.” He swallowed hard, pulling his knees up to his chest as he turned into the back of his sofa. “Is that… is that why you felt you had to trick us, on what happened last night?”

“I know you will, Steve. It’s just…” There was a long pause, then he heard another voice on James’ end.

“James, did you see me? I went so high! I almost flew!”

“Yeah I saw, Stevie! That was awesome.” Steve felt his heart convulse. The little boy with his name. The world shifted beneath him again and he had to hold onto the couch tightly.

“I’m gonna do it again, watch me!” the other end fell silent again, and he could just hear both of them breathing now.

“We tricked you,” James finally answered. “Because we knew we had to prove things to your people. That we can handle what we say we can. We also had responsibilities that your group doesn’t.” The words were hard for him. They came out slowly. 

“Your clients. You were able to save them and take care of them as well as everything else, I know. You have any idea how amazing that is?” 

“A little. I know how lucky I am, to have friends like this.” Steve could hear him swallow, even over the crappy blu-tooth connection. “I wish it was easier though, for you too.” 

Steve coughed, then he finally put it together. Now it made sense. His heart eased a little, just enough to let him breath again. “James, it doesn’t have to be easy. You know me, I’ll figure out a way to end up on the other side. But I just want to thank you.”

A long silence again, before James asked softly, “Thank me?” 

“Yeah. They told me a little more, about… about what they put in your head. And yet here you are, just like Bucky did when we were kids, protecting me again. How could I ever hate you for that?” He coughed, trying to hold it together a little longer. 

“I… I never thought of it that way.” James admitted, his voice lifting a bit. “You think that’s what it is?” 

“Maybe. You covered my ass all the way to ‘45. Against bullies, family, pneumonia, the flu, and Nazis. It’s just fucked that it’s still goddamn Hydra you’re up against.” 

“No, the really fucked up part is that it’s Hydra in my brain,” James said softly, coughing a bit. 

Steve laughed, clutching to the couch cushion to keep from falling off the side of the world. “Yeah. Tell you what. I’ll deal with the Hydra outside of your head…”

“And I’ll get the ones in here,” James finished. “Sounds good. Hey Steve!” His voice was so light now.

He swallowed hard. “Yeah, James?” 

“Go get some fucking sleep. I’m gonna make you watch a movie with me tonight. It’s called Howl’s Moving Castle. You’ll love it.” 

“Yes sir, Sarge.” He smiled, despite how hard he was shaking. 

“And hey, Steve?” The sounds of kids were getting louder again. 

“Yeah, James?” He needed to hang up. He wasn’t going to cry again, dammit, not where James could hear him.

“I may be scared of all this, but,” James paused. Abruptly the noise level went down as a door shut at his end. “I still love you, you damn punk.” 

Steve coughed. Laughed even as the tears jumped out of his eyes. “Love you too, you fucking jerk.”


	9. Epilogue

Half the residents of Cloverfield Terrace stood with the seven of them outside Cloverfield Tower, cheering as Jared Hinkerson and Louis Donovan led the parade of executives escorted out of the building in handcuffs. Annie Gallagher stood next to DA Weber, one hand light on his shoulder and chin held high. James stood behind her, Stevie sitting on his shoulders so he could see everything better. A couple of the people carrying things out of the building were Shield personnel, quoting the Homeland Defense Act to claim everything that might have a connection to Hydra and Marissa Pierce. James thought he’d caught a glimpse of Barton in the group of suits going in and out.

“So now what?” One of the women who lived in building 5 asked. Shamea Oneida was a heavy set black woman, and she hadn’t believed a word Annie tried to tell her before dragging her downtown to watch this event.

Annie merely smiled. Without the fear her situation had put in her, Annie had turned out to be a pretty calm person. “Now, we can buy the apartment complex and run it ourselves.” 

Shamea snorted with disbelief. “With what money, you crack head? City is gonna shut everything down and kick us out ‘cause of everything they didn’t fix!” 

DA turned to face her then, his face stern at the name calling. “Our friends here have that worked out.” He looked up at Hardison and cocked his head.

“Yes sir, we do. See, there’s a trick with the stock market. When you buy stock, you’re betting on that company making money. But you can always make a bet against a company. So the worse they do,” and he smiled angelically at the parade of news cameras filming everything happening, “the more money you can make. By the end of the day, their stock will be so low that we’ll be able to buy them out AND have more than enough to rehabilitate the apartments, and best of all, wipe out all their debt collections.” 

Several people murmured behind them, a couple clapped. Shamea though, she was stubborn. James liked her. “What’s the catch? No one does stuff like this for free.” 

“That’s where I come in.” Sam stepped forward, wearing his Veterans ID plainly on his jacket. “DA introduced us and we’ve worked out an arrangement. I got a lot of guys down at the VA Center who are hungry for something to do, something to keep them busy and a place they can stay. Like Luke here.” He turned to lead up a quiet guy with streaked hair. He stood a bit lopsided, leaning hard on a cane, but his jaw was set a lot like Annie’s had been, that first day they’d met. “He’s a carpenter, grew up building stuff before he joined the Army.” Sam gave Shamea an easy smile, and James wondered absently if he had any other kind of smile. “It’s not going to be easy, but it’s possible, if you’re willing to give it a chance.” 

“Hunh. We’ll see,” she said grudgingly, but several other people were pushing forward to greet the people behind Sam. James lifted Stevie down to join his mom, while he stepped aside with his friends to make room. It was out of their hands now.  
“So this is what it’s like, when you finish a job?” He murmured softly to Eliot. The man had a spectacular pattern of bruises across his face, as well as his arm in a sling still. But he was still grinning.

“Oh yeah. Best feeling in the world, I think.” 

Parker slung her arm around James’ neck from his left side, not caring about the hard metal of his arm digging into her ribs from the force of her pounce. “You ready to do a few more with us?” 

“I think so.” He grinned, hugging her back. It felt good to actually have her touching him. It wasn’t as weird anymore.

“Great. Let’s go home and get to work then!” Parker squeezed him hard again, then punched Eliot above the sling on her way around him.

“Dammit Parker! Don’t do that!” The two of them bickered softly as they started towards their van. 

James paused for a moment, catching Sam’s eyes. He nodded in respect, then laughed when they both smiled at the same time. They’d talk later too. Pierce was still out there, somewhere. They needed Shield. Beyond that, Sam was a good guy.

But before he could take another step, he felt someone wrap themselves around his leg. “You’re leaving?” Stevie looked up at him, pouting in disappointment.

James knelt down immediately to hug him. “Hey, it’s okay. I’ll be around. Can’t say goodbye to my favorite movie buddy, right? Besides, your aunt Alice is gonna come work in the restaurant with us. Things are finally gonna be okay, promise.” 

The boy wrapped his arms tight around his neck, almost choking him. It felt so good, that much trust. He hugged Stevie back almost as tight, promising wordlessly. He looked up at Annie and Alice, both smiling down at them. “You guys come to dinner tonight. I still owe you a story.” 

#

Sam got invited for the story as well, he and DA both. The restaurant was closed except for the nine of them. Hardison helped to move the biggest round table over closer to the kitchen, because despite having his arm in the sling, Eliot worked with Alice and James both to handle the cooking and the serving. “Consider this my audition,” Alice told them. Eliot had just laughed. 

Before he got started, he pulled Stevie to the side. “This story I’m about to tell everyone, it’s got a lot of bad things in it. I was a very bad man, and I did a lot of bad things.” He squeezed the boys shoulders gently, trying to reassure. “So if you get scared, just remember, it has a happy ending.” 

“What’s the happy ending?” Stevie asked hopefully. 

“It’s that I’m not a bad man anymore. I survived everything, and I made it here, to meet all of you. You’re part of my happy ending for this story.” 

James waited until everyone’s settled with full plates before he began. He thought that Hardison and maybe Sam were recording, but he also set his phone to record too. He’d send it to Steve, later. 

“A lot of this, it’s gonna be hard to believe, I know. But you guys know abut Captain America. Blows me away still, that you grew up knowing our story. So maybe, it’ll be a little easier to believe this too.” He took a deep breath, then started, taking his time, just like he’d practiced. “My full name, my real name, is James Buchanan Barnes. I was born in 1917 and when I was six years old, I met a scrawny punk named Steve Rogers…”

~~~  
End  
~~~

So progress! Bucky’s ten times better than he was at the end of part 1 but oh so far from being back with his Steve. New friends, new adventures, but the same scary old ax waiting to drop at some point. Who better to stay with than the crew that has contingency plans for their contingency plans? 

I’ve got another side fic that kind of ate my brain. If you were wondering who I meant by “Both Rebeccas” in the last chapter… it’s the one that’s going to explain that. It also sets up what’s been happening out east while we focused in on the west. 

In the meantime!! I promised you links. Like the real writers of Leverage did, I went and took a few real world examples for my crappy bastard for the crew to target. I’m gonna warn you, these links have the ability to make you mad, sad, upset, and hate the world in general for the crappy state of 'greed is best.' Cause fuck those assholes. And forgive the funky progression. The notes got mad at my last addition that pushed it over 5k characters, so I'm putting this in the end of the fic instead of the notes! Because I'm sure I'm going to keep finding new ones to document here. 

 

~  
The apartment complex I created with the horrible conditions was based off a Portland place: [ North Portland Apartment Slapped With 60 Code Violations](http://www.wweek.com/news/2015/12/09/north-portland-apartment-slapped-with-60-code-violations-plans-on-fixing-everything/) Complete with clueless “we didn’t know!” explanations. 

The poverty industry is from Matthew Desmonds’ book called Evicted. NY Times did a pretty in depth article to give you an idea what the book is like. [Evicted: Poverty and Profit in the American City](http://www.nytimes.com/2016/02/28/books/review/matthew-desmonds-evicted-poverty-and-profit-in-the-american-city.html) The whole cycle of renting just to kick you out and take you to court is outlined pretty well in that book/article. And it’s drastically heavy on the racism too. The harder it is to have your voice heard, the more they take advantage of you.

I didn’t get into the last two examples very heavily in this adventure, because the action took me to different places. But in the first chapter, I mentioned the debt collection agency who packaged accounts that were being collected on and selling them on to other people to chase. **If you don’t read any of the other articles, read these two.** Because I don’t want any of you to get caught by these bastards. And if you are, I want you aware to know your rights and how to get away from them. The more you know and all.

[The Debt Collection Business Isn't Pretty](http://www.bloomberg.com/news/articles/2013-02-01/the-debt-collection-business-isn-t-pretty) This is more of an over all look at the business. But the second article follows one of the wheeler and dealers of packaged debt. [ Bad Paper: Debt Collector](http://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2014/08/15/magazine/bad-paper-debt-collector.html?_r=0)

ETA: The wonderful LadyYashka mentioned this video [With John Oliver: Debt Buyers](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hxUAntt1z2c) in the comments.  
And then this morning, Twitter gave me a new link to awfulness in poverty housing, but this time it's the government doing it in Minneapolis: [Glendale Townhomes: the fight over the housing project that sits on gold](http://www.citypages.com/news/the-fight-over-the-minneapolis-housing-project-that-sits-on-gold-8409176). I'm just.. uuugghhhh.  
Editing again! This goes with the debt collection links, and it's way more positive! [Regulators Draw Up new Rules To Stop Abusive Practices By Debt Collectors](http://www.npr.org/sections/thetwo-way/2016/07/28/487814576/regulators-draw-up-new-rules-to-stop-abusive-practices-by-debt-collectors) Very awesome! Three thumbs up from me about that!  
  


I knew there'd come a time when an article or story caught my eye to add to this. I never guessed that it'd be run by the President's Son-In-Law.  
Jared Kushner: Slumlord - [The Beleaguered Tenants of 'Kushnerville' - by ProPublica](https://www.propublica.org/article/the-beleaguered-tenants-of-kushnerville)

Additional Edit:  
Oh look, Kushner's legacy lives on: [Jared Kushner Act aims to limit arrests over unpaid rent in Maryland](https://globalnews.ca/news/3998299/jared-kushner-act-bilal-ali-unpaid-rent/)

A Maryland lawmaker has sponsored the “Jared Kushner Act,” a bill that would prevent state judges from issuing arrest warrants for tenants who are being sued for less than $5,000 in unpaid rent.

Del. Bilal Ali, a Baltimore Democrat, said Wednesday he named the bill after President Donald Trump’s son-in-law because Kushner’s apartment management company was the state’s most aggressive landlord in obtaining civil arrest warrants against tenants.

~

________

Finally, I just wanna thank all of you for taking this ride with me. Between Here and There just passed 5000 hits!! The Rent Job passed 200 kudos last weekend and has almost 2500 hits of its own. It gives me such a boost each morning to get the “you’ve got kudos!” email every day. I cracked 100k words on the collective and I still have the final arc to go. GUYS!!! You’re awesome. Florianna’s awesome. I owe her a century of cupcakes for beta reading this whole thing. And cookies to all of you. Thank you.

If you've enjoyed this series, please subscribe at the series level. Don't want to miss out, right?  



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